


Better Late Than Never

by reddhede



Series: Right Back Home To You [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker Harry, Birth, Break Up, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Louis, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Past Abuse, So much angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wedding, Writer Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddhede/pseuds/reddhede
Summary: After an unstable and abusive childhood, Louis finally has the life he'd always dreamed of - a good flat, a good job, and the best boyfriend.  But one little plastic stick turns that life upside down.





	1. The Break Up

_Liam.  This was all Liam’s fucking fault_ , Louis thought as he heaved up the contents of his stomach into the toilet for the second time that day.  Okay, so technically it wasn’t his _fault_ that Louis might be pregnant – that honor most definitely belonged to Harry.  But the possibility hadn’t even occurred to him until Liam brought it up after a far too greasy, far too early breakfast a few mornings ago that had incited a particularly brutal bout of illness.

But after the word had slipped out, it was all he could fucking think about.  He had an article to write, damnit, but every time he tried to focus, his mind was plagued with the sounds of screaming infants, the smell of foul diapers, and the image of his perfectly toned stomach unnaturally stretched beyond repair.

He retched again.

“Not gonna get any work done like this,” he moaned into the toiled bowl, slowly getting to his feet and tidying up both the bathroom and himself.  When he returned to the living room, Louis grabbed his phone to text Liam.

_Fine – I’ll take the damn test.  But you’re buyin’._

It was only a few seconds before his phone buzzed with a reply.

_I’ll be over in a few._ Then, a few seconds later, Louis felt another vibration.  _Don’t be scared – whatever happens, it’ll work out._

Louis frowned down at his phone; he both loved and hated the fact that his best friend knew him so well.  It’s not that Louis didn’t want kids… he just didn’t want them now.  Or anytime in the near future.  Or.  Hell, maybe he didn’t want kids?  At least he didn’t until he learned how much Harry wanted them.  As much as the boy tried to hide this desire from Louis, bless him, it was obvious.  By the way one corner of Harry’s mouth tugged up whenever they saw a little boy on the swing set when they walked through the park.  By the way he lifted his little pinky and sipped delicately from the empty teacup when they babysat his next door neighbor’s daughter.  By the way his face lit up and he squealed with excitement anytime one of their friends announced they were expecting.

These memories calmed his racing thoughts.  Even if Louis wasn’t ready for a baby, Harry seemed to be.  So when Liam’s soft knock came from the door, Louis was surprised that he had actually started to doze off.  In the middle of panicking.  In the middle of uncertainty.  In the middle of something that could change his entire life.

He smiled.  Only Harry had that effect on him.

“Here you go, mate.”  Liam handed off the bag and lingered by the door, unsure whether he was welcome to stay and find out the results right then and there.

Liam was practically vibrating with anticipation and Louis chuckled.  “Come in, then,” he said, leaving the door ajar as he made his way back to the bathroom.

He had been nervously chugging water all day, both because he couldn’t seem to eat anything and, because despite not being able to eat anything he still needed something to throw up.  So he was full to bursting when showtime came; hell, he could’ve taken a hundred pregnancy tests with the current state of his bladder.

Once the sample was provided, Louis set it on the counter and took the opportunity to relieve himself of the rest.  By the time he was done and washed his hands, the timer on his phone had already gone off.  His heart hammered inside his chest, having almost nothing to do with being startled by the unexpected beeping. 

This was it.

He had never been so nervous about anything in his entire life.  His hands were shaking as he reached for the white stick, and he just wanted his boyfriend’s arms around him to hold him steady, to tell him that he loved him and would be there for him and would understand and support and—

_Not Pregnant_.

Louis blinked in rapid succession.  He squeezed his eyes shut until they burned, then opened them wide, and when they had adjusted back to the light he looked again.

_Not Pregnant_.

Louis set the test down and put his face in his hands.  He laughed once, then again, then ran his hands over his face and let out a long-suffering groan.  He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head at his own reflection; he looked like a proper wreck.  When he opened the door, he nearly ran smack dab into Liam, who was hovering just outside the threshold.

“Fuck, Li, give a guy some space, yeah?”

“Well?” he questioned, not bothering to apologize.

“Negative,” Louis said, stepping around Liam’s broad form.  “You prick,” he added for good measure.

“Negative?”  Liam had been pretty sure; he wouldn’t have brought up the sensitive issue with his best friend if he wasn’t.  “Are you sure?”

“I know you think I’m a child, but I _can_ read.”  Liam had shelled out for the nice digital test rather than the ambiguous one with lines and crosses, so it would have been damn near impossible for Louis to misinterpret the results.  “See for yourself.”

Liam rushed into the bathroom and frowned down at the test.  “Not pregnant.”

“Told ya,” Louis sighed in relief as he plopped down on the couch.  All this worry and anxiety and the fact that he must actually be coming down with something made him exhausted.

“Well, at least now you know for sure,” Liam rationalized, replacing the used test on the counter.  “You’re welcome.”

“You don’t deserve thanks because you scared the shit out of me.  For no reason, I might add,” Louis huffed from the couch, eyes closed.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell who?”

“Harry.”

Louis snorted.  “Tell him what?  That nothing is any different than when I saw him last, two nights ago?”

“Louis –“

“What, Liam?  What?”

“You can’t keep, you know, keeping things from him.”

Louis sat up from his comfortably reclined position in order to better scowl at the man standing in front of him.  “I know I have a bit of an emotional intimacy problem – something that the both of you have told me repeatedly over the years.  But there is literally nothing to tell here.”

Liam took a seat beside Louis on the couch, close enough that their bodies sank together in the middle, and placed an affectionate hand on Louis’ knee.  “I know you, Louis.  You freaked out when I mentioned the ‘p’ word.  I bet your nails are bitten down to nubs.”  Louis shifted, choosing to sit on his hands rather than prove Liam right.  “You’ve been making yourself sick with worry for days, and Harry probably has no idea; in fact, you’ve probably been ignoring him this whole time instead of letting him be a part of this with you.”

“There is no ‘this’,” Louis reminded him, though with less fire than before.  Okay, he was starting to feel a little guilty; honestly, he hadn’t even thought to talk to Harry about it until he knew for sure.

Liam sighed.  “By ‘this’ I don’t just mean a baby, Lou.”  Louis freed one of his hands and again began gnawing at the raw flesh.  “Are you ever gonna let that boy love you the way he wants to?  The way you deserve to be loved?”

At this, Louis’ eyes began to sting and— no.  No, he was not going to get into this right now.  Everyone was always telling him what he should want and have and they just didn’t understand.  He was trying.  He had known Liam for over half his life, and it had taken years to build up a trusting friendship.  It was a damn miracle that Harry had found his way so deeply into his heart after only three.

“We love each other just fine, thank you.  Not that it’s any of your damn business,” he grumbled more quietly, springing from the couch and making his way toward the door.  “And which we are going to be doing a lot of later tonight.  So.  You’d best be going.”

It wasn’t a question, and Liam accepted the dismissal with a reserved sadness.  “Take care, mate.”  He pulled Louis into a hug on his way by, lingering just long enough for the remainder of Louis’ agitation to dissipate.

When Liam left, Louis had every intention of getting ready for his date, he really did.  But as soon as he slid open the door to his closet, his brain fogged and his head began to hurt.  Why did he have so many clothes?  More importantly, why did he have so many clothes, and still had nothing he wanted to wear?

“Ugh.”  He slammed the door shut with a disgusted sigh and threw himself onto the bed in exasperation.  He tried valiantly to mentally pick out an outfit, sorting through his various band t-shirts and blazers in his mind, but his thoughts inevitably meandered and soon he found himself in the throes of a very deep and satisfying afternoon nap.

That afternoon must have turned into an evening nap, which he realized when he was awoken by the swift clap of his front door closing.

“Lou?  You ready?” Harry called from the entranceway.

Louis rolled his heavy head to the side and glanced at the clock – 6:56.  _Shit_.  The time should have been enough to rouse him from the bed, but instead it just made him more tired.  He was a mess and the amount of effort it would take to make him look presentable next to his sex god boyfriend seemed insurmountable, so instead he opted to snatch another pillow and stuff it under his head to make himself even more comfortable.

“Babe?” Harry questioned again, ducking his head into the bedroom when Louis was nowhere else to be found.  “Babe…”  The word was an admonishment, though tinged with affection; this was not the first time this had happened.  Harry crawled onto the bed and snuggled behind his boyfriend, tugging his body against his chest and nuzzling his nose into his untamed fringe.  “Do you need me to wake you up?” he purred, nipping lightly at Louis’ ear.

“Mmm, at least buy me dinner first,” he mumbled sleepily.

“That was the plan, if you remember.”  He slid his hand down Louis’ stomach, going low enough to stimulate but staying high enough just to tease.  “I am quite hungry.”  His strokes became quicker and harder, and Louis’ answering moan was enough to let him know that his ministrations were having their intended effect.  One way or another, Harry was going to be satiated tonight.

“Harry,” Louis complained, equal parts exhausted and nauseous and, well, aroused.  He wasn’t quite sure which was most prominent at the moment.  Harry’s lips were already making their way into the crook of Louis’ neck, and he stretched his head back, opening himself up out of habit.  “Harry,” he said again, this time a little more desperate.  He really wasn’t sure he was up for the sheer physical exertion that making love to Harry tended to require, but if he didn’t intervene soon he might not be strong enough to stop himself.

“Hmm?”  Harry hummed into his neck, and god did it feel good.

“Harry, stop.”

Harry stilled and pulled away, pushing himself up onto one elbow and really looking at Louis for the first time.  “What’s wrong?”  Physical intimacy had been a slow process between them, and there were a lot of starts and stops, but that hadn’t happened for some time, and he started to wonder if he’d done something to make Louis upset.

“Don’t feel good,” Louis mumbled into the pillow.

Harry laid back down and pulled him close again, this time settling for a chaste cuddle.  “What can I do?”

“What you’re currently doing is nice.”  Louis wiggled his bum closer against Harry’s groin and pulled his arms tighter around his waist.  “Keep doing that.”  Harry kicked off his shoes and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of Louis’ head as the soft snores started escaping steadily from his mouth.

It was not long into their early bedtime before nature called and Harry slipped out of his lover’s bed.  He marveled at the beautiful man that fit so perfectly in the space between his arms.  It had taken so long for Louis to open up to him, and there seemed to be more hard days than easy ones as of late, but every second had been worth it just to have moments like this.

Harry shuffled to the bathroom and rubbed the sleep from his eyes; he had just started to undo his zipper when something by the sink that wasn’t any of the usual toiletries caught his eye.  He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, so when he flicked switch it took a few seconds to adjust before his heart damn near stopped.  He didn’t have any experience with them personally, but anyone would know exactly what it was.

_Was Louis pregnant?  Were they going to have a baby?  Was Harry going to be a dad?_

He picked up the test, but the screen was blank.  Harry rummaged through the trash and speed-read through the instructions; the digital display timed out after several hours.  Louis must have taken it before Harry even got there, but… why didn’t he say anything?

Harry tossed the packaging back in the trash, the unreadable device still clutched in his hand.  He didn’t know what to do.  He knew what he wanted to do, which was race into the other room, pounce on his unsuspecting boyfriend, and demand the truth immediately.  However, pushing Louis into doing something he wasn’t ready for was something Harry promised himself he would never do, not knowing what he knew about Louis’ past.

Still, it hurt more than he cared to admit that Louis hadn’t even mentioned it. 

If he went back into the bedroom, he would not have been able to stop himself from waking Louis up, or at the very least yanking up his shirt and exploring his tummy for any signs of life buried within… which would also probably end up waking him up.  So instead he opted for sinking down into the well-worn couch, placing the test on the coffee table and continuing to stare at it like the results might somehow magically reappear.

Hours passed, and as each one slipped by Harry found himself getting more and more upset.  The not knowing was awful, torturous even, but more than that he felt betrayed.  He had worked so hard to earn Louis’ trust, to tear down the impenetrable walls surrounding his heart piece by piece and with sheer force of will because he knew it would be worth it.  And after all this time, he had convinced himself that he’d finally done it, that he’d finally gotten to a place where Louis didn’t feel the need to keep secrets from him.

But he was wrong.

A few tears slipped out of the corner of his eyes, but they weren’t of frustration or anger or even possibly joy.  Harry was so overwhelmed with sadness, convinced deep in his soul that the relationship he’d fought so hard for was fractured, that they were two pieces of a heart that would never be made whole.

The first thing Louis noticed was the cold; he reached a hand behind him, but the body that usually acted as his heated blanket was nowhere to be found.  With only a slight grumble of disappointment, he rolled himself over the side of the bed and stumbled toward the door.  There was a soft light coming from the living room and he scuttled over to find a very distressed Harry sitting on the couch, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together supporting his chin.

“Harry?”  His voice was raw and crackled with the remnants of sleep.  Harry took a few deep breaths, and Louis wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard him.  “Haz?”

“Were you even going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”  It was then that Louis followed his boyfriend’s gaze to the object on the coffee table.  Shit.  Dumbass Liam must have left it out on the counter when he left.  Shitshitshit.  “Harry, I –“

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Pregnant, Louis, are you pregnant?”  Harry tried to keep his voice level, but the words were fueled by his building frustration and a hint of hysteria and came out harsher than intended.

“What?  No.  Doesn’t it—doesn’t it say that?”  In answer, Harry tossed him the test; it was, indeed, blank.  “Ah, shit, Haz, I’m sorry.  I didn’t… well, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“So you weren’t going to tell me then?”  It was as Harry feared; Louis was still shutting him out.

“Fuck, you sound just like Liam – there’s nothing to tell, yeah?”

“Liam?  Liam knows?”  Somehow that was another slap to the face, another person that was closer to Louis than he was.

“’Course he does; he’s the one who put the stupid idea in my head when he saw me turning my guts inside out the other day.  I told him he was out of his mind, but was happy to let him spend his own money on a test just to prove himself wrong.”  Louis shrugged and rolled his eyes; maybe he was still a little pissed at Liam for working him up into a tizzy, and certainly now for unnecessarily dragging Harry into this mess.

“You were sick.”  This, too, was news to Harry.  “You were sick and Liam thought you might be pregnant, and then you thought you might be pregnant.”

“But I’m not.”

“And Liam bought you a pregnancy test, and –“  Harry paused and actually looked at Louis then.  “Was he here?  When you took it, was he here with you?”

Louis didn’t know why he was looking at him like that, why he sounded so broken, and he didn’t know which answer was the one Harry needed to hear.  “Y-yeah, Liam stayed while I took it.”  Harry nodded, more to himself than to Louis; when he didn’t speak, Louis sat on the coffee table so that they were face to face.  “I would have told you if it had been positive.”

“Would you, though?”

The words were soft, and Louis wasn’t even sure if he was meant to have heard them.  “What?”

Harry’s gaze locked onto his again, sharp and narrow.  “Would you have told me if you were pregnant?”

“How –“

“Or would you have just dealt with it like you deal with everything – on your own and without talking to anyone else about it?”  Without talking to _him_ about it, at least.

“What do you mean?”

Harry stood up then, too agitated to remain in one spot, and began pacing the length of the couch.  “I know how you feel about having kids.  Since you didn’t feel the need to include me in, I dunno, what could be the most important moment of our lives, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to include me in deciding what to do about it.”

“But, but there’s nothing… there’s no baby!”  Louis was beyond confused at how things had escalated this quickly.

Harry halted and spun around, his face a mask of horror as a thought occurred to him.  “Have you… is this –“  He clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly before continued.  “Have you been pregnant before?”  Louis just stared at him dumbly.  “Tell me the truth – have you… have you ever had an abortion without telling me?”  He knew it wasn’t fair, and regretted asking when the hurt flashed across Louis’ face.  Fear and anger had smothered the more rational part of his brain that should have told him to hold his tongue, but the fact that he even had to ask was devastating.

Louis actually backed away a few steps.  “How- how could you even ask me that?”

“Please.  Please, tell me the truth.”  Harry’s words were barely a whisper.

“No.  No, of course not.  Why would you –“

“I need to go.”

“What?  No.”  Louis followed as Harry made his way toward the door.  “Harry, wait!” he called, pulling at his arm as he yanked at the handle.

“Please let me go.”  The words were soft and calm, but pleading, and Louis obliged. 

“Can’t we talk about this?” Louis managed to get out between sniffs.

“I need… I need some time.”  He still wouldn’t look at Louis, but paused in his stride long enough to say, “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

And just like that, Harry Styles was out of his apartment.  Possibly out of his life.  Louis collapsed to the floor as his whole world collapsed around him.

It was a solid week of silence – well, Harry was silent; Louis was a loud, weepy, whiny mess, and Liam, god help him, took the brunt of it.

“Thank god.  I couldn’t stand listening to you blabber on for one more day,” Liam groaned when Harry finally texted saying that he would come round that night.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“What, and let you starve to death?  I’m sure you’d find a way to pester me about that incessantly, even if you were dead.”

“Damn right I would haunt your ass for letting such a gift to humanity die so tragically young.”

“Hmph,” Liam grumbled.  He knew Louis’ bravado was just a façade that had masked his low self-esteem most of his life, and so didn’t particularly like hearing him say those kinds of things.  “Want me to stick around for the main event?”

Louis spun around and narrowed his eyes.  “Pretty sure your involvement was what got me into trouble in the first place.”

“And the fact that you didn’t take my excellent advice had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“Not a damn thing.”

Louis shooed his best friend out the door a good hour before Harry was supposed to be there; he honestly wasn’t sure what Liam’s presence would do to the currently tenuous balance of their relationship, but he didn’t particularly want to find out.

It was still a few minutes before the scheduled time when he heard a knock, and Louis was fully prepared to give Liam an earful about being a meddling twat when he yanked open the door and –

Oh.

This wasn’t good.  Harry had a key, and had been letting himself into Louis’ apartment since… well he couldn’t even remember the last time Harry had bothered to knock.  So yeah, this was not good.

“Do you… want to come in?”  It sounded like a weird question to ask, since Harry had practically been living there on and off for the better part of a year.  He nodded, and followed Louis’ lead in taking a seat at the barstools arranged in a line at the kitchen counter.  “How, uh, how are you?  You look good.”  Well, he looked a hell of a lot better than the night he’d run out of Louis’ apartment; but that wasn’t saying much.  Harry was looking down at his clasped hands, the hair falling down over his face and obscuring his expression.  “Do you forgive me?”

Harry looked up at that, and his resolve wavered; Louis looked so sweet and vulnerable and contrite.  “Do you even know what you’re asking forgiveness for?” he asked with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about, well, any of it.  Next time I throw up, I’ll text you before I even leave the bathroom, I swear.  I didn’t – I’m just so fucking sorry.”  Louis got up from his seat to brush the hair out of Harry’s face; he just wanted to be close to him, to touch him again, and couldn’t help that his hands trailed along his temples and around his jaw, or that his thumbs started brushing along his cheekbones.

Harry gently disengaged from Louis’ grasp and placed his arms back at his sides.  “Louis –“

“Don’t.”  Louis could see it, that look Harry was giving him; it was I love you and I’m hurting and I’m sorry all written into a soft smile with sad eyes that said more than words ever could.  “Please don’t do this.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lou, but…”  He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his already tousled hair.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?  What did I do?”  The tears were welling in his eyes, but he bit them back.  “How do I fix this?”

“This isn’t… this isn’t just about what happened the other night.  It’s not just about one thing; it’s about a thousand little things.  And it’s not your fault, I know.  I know why you are the way you are.”  Louis looked away, staring intently at the red stain in his white granite countertop, trying to contain the shame that always bubbled to the surface when his past was mentioned.  “I love you, so much.  But there are still times when it’s like I don’t know you at all, like you’re still hiding pieces of yourself from me.”

“But… but I’m not.”

Harry held up a finger.  “I know you probably believe that, but it’s still how I feel.  And it’s not… it’s not that you didn’t tell me about the baby.  Or not baby,” he amended when Louis began to protest.  “It’s _why_ you didn’t tell me.  I don’t think you trust me, not completely anyway.  And I can’t –“  He grabbed Louis’ wrists desperately, as if begging him to understand.   “I thought I was okay with it.  I thought I could live with just having whatever parts of yourself that you shared with me because you’re that wonderful, you are.  But I can’t.  I can’t keep compromising; I can’t keep pretending.  And I need –“  He scrunched his eyes tightly closed and blew out a shuddering breath.  “I need you to let me go.”  When he opened his eyes again, Louis was staring at him with a maddeningly unreadable expression.  “Will you do that?  Will you let me go?”

Fuck.

Louis didn’t know what to say.  He sure as hell didn’t want to let Harry go.  He wanted to tell him that he was everything, his whole world.  That he would fall apart and end up a blubbery useless puddle on the floor if he walked out that door.

But that’s when the little voice inside his head, the one that had been darkening his thoughts and suffocating him with self-loathing since he was a kid, quietly reminded him that he was nothing special, that he was worthless and broken, and most importantly, that Harry was good and perfect and deserved the world.

So he did the only thing he could do in that moment; he nodded.  His whole body was numb as Harry wept and hugged him and thanked him and kissed him goodbye; and when Harry walked out the door for the last time, he took whatever pieces that were left of Louis’ heart with him.


	2. The Aftermath

In the days following the breakup, Louis had gathered up every item in his apartment that even remotely reminded him of his now ex.  The stuffed bear that Harry had won him after feeding more money than they’d spent on dinner into one of those impossible claw machines.  The book that Harry lent him, knowing full well that he’d never read it but giving Harry something to do after he inevitably fell asleep first.  The sweatshirt that Harry always brought over because Harry was always hot and made him turn down the thermostat; it still smelled faintly of his cologne and Louis may have cried a little upon stuffing it into the box with all his other things.

The box was small considering how much time they were together, and Louis had the horrifying thought that maybe Harry was right, maybe he had kept Harry at arm’s length all this time.  This brought about another full round of sobbing and a gasping phone call to Liam begging him to get the stuff out of his sight.

After Liam had calmed him down and convinced him that no, he wasn’t a horrible person, and no, he wasn’t hopeless and pathetic, and yes, he would find love again, he mercifully offered to take the box.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Liam asked when he got there.  Louis, who was just sitting on the floor by the door with his arms wrapped around his knees staring at the last remnants of his relationship, simply shrugged.  “Throw it out?”

“No!” he protested before he could think about it.  What did he care if these things were tossed?  It was over.  He was letting go.  “I mean.  I don’t care.  Sure.”  He tried to sound nonchalant, but the words were strained and unnatural.  “I just need them… not to be here,” he finally said, his head buried into the crook of his arm.

Liam leaned down to wrap his arms around Louis’ shoulders.  “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, hefting up the box.  “Be back later.”

“Bring chocolate.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but they both knew he would oblige.

He had every intention of just tossing the contents into the trash – Liam wasn’t the most sentimental type and hated clutter – but he knew he was uncommon in that way and that he should at least give the owner of those items the chance to reclaim them before getting rid of them.  Which is how he found himself walking through the door of Harry’s bakery.

“We’re closed!” a voice called out from the back as the little bell on the front door chimed.  When an answering chime that would signal a departure never came, Harry poked his head out from the kitchen.  “I said we—oh.”

“What kind of shit restaurant closes at 3 pm?” Liam teased, though neither of them laughed.  “Some of your stuff from Louis’ place.  I, uh, thought you might want to take a look in here.  Before I, you know…  Before it’s gone.”  Liam dropped the box on the counter in front of Harry, who began carefully poking through its contents.

Harry’s fingers clenched around the soft sweater that he hadn’t actually worn since Louis had claimed it last winter.  “Thanks, Liam.”

“Is there anything… a box… of his stuff that you want me to –“

Harry choked back a sob.  “I know- I know I should.  I know there should be.  But I just –“  He looked up at Liam with eyes that were already red and filling with tears.  “I can’t seem to- to let it go.  To let _him_ go.  “

“Then why did you?”

“What?”

“Why did you ‘let him go’?  You don’t have to.”  Harry groaned, and Liam thought that maybe this was a good time to try and knock some sense back into him.  “I know he can be a little closed off, but –“

“Closed off?  Liam, do you know why I don’t have a box of his stuff to give back?  It’s because there isn’t any.”  Harry had tried to cleanse his place of Louis’ presence, but was even more distraught at the fact that there was nothing to cleanse, no cathartic release to excise that piece of himself.  Only memories, and those would haunt him for a very long time.  “He refused to keep so much as drawer for himself at my apartment.  I wanted to marry the man, and now that he’s gone the only evidence that he was ever even there is an extra toothbrush in the holder.  It’s not even a good one – he would just pluck a new one out of this crappy value pack every time!”

“You wanted to marry him?”

Harry nibbled at his bottom lip; he hadn’t realized that bit of information had slipped out in his tirade.  “Ehm, yeah.  I was thinking of maybe doing it that night.”  He scratched nervously at the back of his neck.  “Didn’t really go the way I’d planned.”

Liam pursed his lips.  “You really hurt him, Harry.”

Harry nodded.  “I know.  But he hurt me too.  And I can’t… I couldn’t live like that anymore.  I want a family, Liam.  A husband, kids, the whole nine.  I wanted it with Louis, but I don’t want to force him into anything.  I know he’d do it, eventually, for my sake.  But what kind of life is that?”

Liam understood where he was coming from, but he didn’t think Louis would give into those life choices if he really didn’t want to.  “So you don’t trust that he’s strong enough to make that decision for himself?”

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to come up with a satisfactory answer.  He loved Louis, and breaking up with him was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  But Louis had grown up sacrificing his own wants and needs for others, to keep the ones he loved happy and safe and together.  And that was why they had been fighting so much lately; Louis had been taking on too much – at work, with their friends, in their relationship – but he never said anything.  He just let his resentment build, making them both increasingly unhappy and frustrated until Harry finally forced the truth out of him.  If Louis still couldn’t trust Harry with his feelings, maybe he never would; he didn’t want that for either of their futures.

Still, the separation was devastating, and he hung his head in despair.  “God, Liam, what did I do?”

Liam shifted uncomfortably.  He didn’t think Harry’s observations had been wrong, exactly, but he also didn’t think he should have just given up on Louis like that.  “You did what you thought was best.”

Harry nodded, though it seemed more reflexive than affirmative.  “How- how is he?”  He didn’t want to want to know, but he had to.  He just had to.

Liam blew out a breath, unsure how much he should share, if anything.  Louis had been his best friend for a long time; of course he was always in his corner.  But, Harry had become his friend too over these last couple years, and he was obviously in pain as well.  He deserved more than the silent treatment.  “He’s… it’s an adjustment.”

“Is he eating?”  Even now, Harry worried; he knew that when Louis was in a bad place mentally that he tended to neglect himself.  “Sleeping?”

This self-punishment was well-known among Louis’ inner circle and Liam sighed.  “We’re working on it.”  Harry winced and Liam debated whether to interject his own opinion on the situation.  He decided against it; this was between the two of them, and if they were going to realize that they were being idiots because they were in fact perfect for each other… well, they were just going to have to discover that on their own.  “Take care, Harry,” Liam said, turning to leave.

Harry caught his arm and Liam turned back around with a questioning gaze.  “Can we… would you mind… coming back?  I can’t- I don’t really have anyone to talk to.  About this.”

Liam’s head rolled back and he suppressed a groan.  God, he was going to have to listen to _two_ people whine about how they weren’t together even when both of them clearly wanted to be together.  “Only if I get some free pastries out of this whole deal.  Just because you broke my best friend’s heart doesn’t mean I should have to deprive myself of the best damn desserts in the city.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about his words that were somehow both complimentary and condemning, but that was Liam for you.  “Thank you.  Really.”  It hadn’t occurred to Harry that losing his boyfriend might also mean losing his best friend, and he was lonely.

“Sure, sure.”  Liam waved him off and made his way out the door and back toward Louis’ apartment, stopping by a convenience store to pick up the promised sweets before heading back for another round of coddling and cheering up.

It was a full month of sleeping all day and not showering and eating like shit before Liam finally brought up the suggestion that Louis needed to leave the house.

“You haven’t even gone into the office.  They’re not convinced you’re still among the living.”

“I wouldn’t keep sending in my write-ups every week if I was dead; I love talking football, but even I draw the line at working post-mortem,” the squirming lump of blankets that was supposedly Louis mumbled grumpily from the couch.

Liam stood directly in front of the mass of fabric with his hands on his hips.  “You have to get out of the house, mate.”

“Do not.” 

“Louis William Tomlinson.”  Louis cringed; Liam only used his full name when he was about to throw down some seriously shameful finger-wagging.  “You are a strong, independent human being who does _not_ need a man to live a happy and fulfilled life.”  Louis let out a grumble of disagreement.  “But.  You are not going to find it wallowing in this disgusting quilt of sadness and self-pity.”

“I’m heartbroken, Liam.  Show some damn empathy.”

“I think I’ve enabled your moping enough.  But I’m done buying you sweets and renting sappy movies just so you can eat til you’re sick and cry til you’re exhausted.”  Louis stuck his lip out and Liam crossed his arms sternly.  “That’s not going to work on me.”

Louis knew that tone; one way or another, Liam was going to get what he wanted, even if he had to throw Louis over his shoulder and carry him out of this flat.  “Fine.  But I’m going out just like this.”  He glanced down at his slippered feet.  “Not even putting on shoes.”

 _Small victories_ , Liam reminded himself, repressing a long-suffering sigh.  “Let’s go buy you something whose first ingredient is something other than refined sugar.”

Louis pouted some more at that, but figured he could slip away from Liam’s watchful eye long enough to at least swipe a few bags of skittles.

It was relatively early, so the grocery store was mostly empty.  The few people that were meandering about were too polite to openly stare, but he could feel the sideways glances that followed his appearance.  His white t-shirt was stained and ripped, his too long pajama bottoms pooling over top of matted slippers, one of which his big toe was protruding out of.  His hair was pointing every direction but down and the purple bruises under his eyes made it look more like he got punched in the face rather than just being exhausted.

Liam had wandered into the produce section and was preoccupied with the free samples lady, who was showing him some exotic pink fruit with white flesh and black seeds.  Seemingly engrossed, Louis took the opportunity to sneak a few aisles over to peruse the bakery section.  Soon he had an armful of donuts and danishes and cookies and fudge.  He had just spotted a particularly tasty looking chocolate croissant, and decided to risk freeing one of his hands to reach for it.  This turned out to require more balance than Louis currently possessed, and all the containers he’d so carefully and sneakily gathered went tumbling to the floor.  As he was ducked under the display to retrieve his goodies, another pair of hands had already started to stack the packages into a neat little pile.

 “Need some help?”

Louis jumped so high that his head crashed into the corner of the stand.  He would know that voice anywhere, and it made him want to crawl further under the pastry stand and just eat himself to death.  It would be far better than standing up and facing the man that had stomped on his heart.

As much as Louis wanted to hide, his pride would not let him.  He skirted past the hand that was offered to help pull him up, and instead pushed himself off the floor and stood to his full height.  Harry’s eyes went wide and a dozen different emotions flitted across his features – surprise, pain, desire, concern, regret.  They settled on contrition, a slight crinkle in his forehead and his eyes downcast, flicking up every so often to meet Louis’ unwavering gaze.

“Hello, Louis.”

Louis wrinkled his nose at the formality of the greeting; like they hadn’t spent the last three years of their lives living as one soul in two bodies.

“Hey.”  This was inevitable, he supposed.  Although, less so if Liam had just minded his own damn business and let him mope in peace and eventually be swallowed up by the couch like nature intended.

“You look –“  Harry stopped himself from finishing the lie.  Louis looked terrible; they both knew it, and saying otherwise would just sound patronizing.  “How are you?”

“Are you cooking dinner?”  Louis had been staring at the basket hooked over Harry’s arm.  In general Harry didn’t like to cook, since he spent all day working the ovens at his bakery, but Louis recognized those ingredients; it was one of the first dates they ever went on – making pizza with a partner was fun and romantic, as the toppings tended to end up almost everywhere except the pie – and it was all there.  The dough that would be kneaded by strong hands with a delicate touch.  The tomatoes that would be used to make the sauce from scratch because from scratch was always better.  And the fancy cheese that Harry always insisted made it infinitely better and Louis never could taste the difference but he went along with it because Harry was so adamant and passionate about it.  Just as adamant and passionate as he was about everything and—

Shit.

The tears had started falling from his eyes without his knowledge, without his permission, and Louis bolted for the exit, both Liam and his contraband goodies completely forgotten.

He was halfway to his apartment before Liam caught up with him, but Louis didn’t stop.  He just kept running, dodging people on the sidewalk, ducking under construction scaffolds, and racing up the stairwell to his flat on the top floor.  He was gasping for breath, but that wasn’t why it took three tries to get his fucking key into the fucking lock.

He left the door open for Liam, who was only a few paced behind him, and raced to the bathroom.  The shock and physical exertion to his body after not moving for so long caused all the rainbow gummies that had constituted his breakfast to come back up his throat, painting a mockingly beautiful mosaic in his toilet bowl.

“I’m sorry about that, Lou.  I really… I didn’t know he’d be there.”  He really might have, though, if he’d thought about it.  He and Harry had been meeting up regularly to chat; at first it was all about Louis, but over their last cup of coffee he had mentioned something about having set up an online dating profile, which Liam thought was creepy and totally unnecessary for someone like Harry – well-off, handsome, young; he could literally just stop someone on the street and have a date for that evening.  Still, he didn’t think Harry would have moved on so quickly; still trying to convince himself that he’d done right by himself, he supposed.

“I sure as hell hope not.”

“I guess going out wasn’t the best idea after all.”

As much as Louis wanted to endorse Liam’s being wrong, he wasn’t sure it was true.  Louis was going to have to face the outside world eventually.  He pulled himself up to examine himself in the mirror and groaned; he was in no place to do it now, obviously.

“I look like shit.”  When Liam didn’t disagree, Louis dropped his head.  “I feel like shit.”  Liam reached a hand out and rubbed it gently up and down his back and Louis moaned in appreciation.  “How do I fix this, Li?”

Liam pursed his lips, trying to determine whether his suggestions would be met with mockery and reproach yet again.  When he deemed his best friend sincere, he suggested, “Maybe try eating a vegetable once in a while?”

Louis dragged his gaze back up to his reflection and grimaced.  It was going to take a lot more than some spinach to get him back to being a functioning member of society.

Well, Louis was never one to half-ass anything, and that included his own recovery makeover.  He had put on more than a few pounds in post-breakup chocolate, and Liam was more than happy to give him a nutrition and workout plan that was sure to make him more miserable than his newly single status ever would.  Once was getting up before midday on a regular basis, Liam started trying to get him to go out with other people again, but Louis kept insisting he wasn’t ready yet; if he was going to start pretending to have a social life again, he had to be perfect.

It took about three months of choking down chunky green smoothies and sprinting until he threw them back up again, but Louis was in the best shape of his life; better, even, than when he’d first started dating Harry and had totally pretended to enjoy working out just to have an excuse to spend time with him.  Harry loved to run, and Louis loved to be around Harry; so, Louis learned to tolerate exercise when he was motivated to do so.

He stared at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing every defined plane in his tan skin.  He frowned when he got to the bottom of his relatively toned stomach, pinching at the small bit of extra fat that still clung to his lower belly.  It was almost enough to make him want to cancel his plans that night (once he’d finally made an appearance back at the magazine’s headquarters, his coworkers had convinced him to meet up with them for a night out of clubbing in the city).

It’s not like he was going topless, though.  His arms looked amazing, if he did say so himself, so he threw on a tank top and nodded in satisfaction at the striped shirt that successfully hid the unwelcome pudge.

“Glad you came out with us tonight, buddy.  Time to get back on the horse, yeah?”  Niall slung an arm around Louis’ shoulders affectionately, pulling him close into a side hug and completely missing the pained look that crossed his face.

“Hmm,” Louis hummed in acknowledgment.  He had barely spoken two words to Niall since he’d started working at the magazine, but the guy talked a mile a minute and apparently that was enough to convince him that they were close friends.  Still, he was nice enough and it wasn’t his fault that Louis had intimacy issues; he would try to be more open.  That was what tonight was supposed to be about anyway.

“Whatcha know about this place anyway?”

Louis shrugged beneath the weight of Niall’s arm.  “My friend recommended it.  Said it was quote, ‘just what you need to get over a breakup.’”  Louis took that to mean the club was known for casual hookups, but how prudish Liam could possibly know where to go for no strings attached sex was beyond him.

When they got inside, Niall immediately went to the center of the dance floor and a crowd of people gathered around; he just had that type of personality that drew in those around him.  Louis was a little jealous as he slunk over to the bar to try and snag a seat; maybe he could ride out this night without having to talk to anyone but the bartender.  That still counted as being social, right?  As luck would have it, someone was leaving just as he got there, and he slipped onto the still warm stool.

“What can I get ya?”  The bartender was young and attractive, evident by the extremely tight and low-cut dress that probably supplied her entire rent in tip money.  Louis floundered for a moment; he was no stranger to alcohol, but he had been so strict with himself the past few months that he honestly didn’t know what he wanted.  His tolerance was probably so low that straight shots would get him too drunk too quickly.  A beer might be nice, but it was full of unnecessary carbohydrates and—god, he’d been spending far too much time with Liam.

“How about I buy you a vodka soda?”

Louis spun around, about to politely decline the offer, but was met with a pair of the most beautiful blue eyes Louis had ever seen.  They were the exact image that he would conjure up whenever Harry used to describe what he saw when he looked into Louis’ eyes – like the icy calm of a wintry lake that hid unfathomable depths – things Louis could never see in himself.

“Does the trick without all the extra calories,” the guy said with a wink.  Before Louis could even answer, the clear bubbly cocktail was placed in his hand by the handsome stranger.  “Eric,” he said, extending his hand in greeting and taking a sip of his own drink.

“L-Louis,” he stammered, taking the offered hand before realizing that his hand was cold and covered in water from the condensation on his glass.  “Ah, shit, sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his palms on his black skinny jeans.

Eric must have found this endearing, since he chuckled.  “You can make it up to me by accepting that overpriced drink I just bought you.”

Louis looked down at his hands and pursed his lips.  He didn’t want to be rude, but he was paranoid and hadn’t even seen the drink prepared.  The guy looked harmless – pleasant, interested, in fact – but if he got drugged and assaulted his first night back out on the town, he didn’t think he’d ever leave his flat again.

“Dance?” he suggested instead as a diversion, setting the drink back on the bar and getting up from his seat.  Eric’s smile got wider as he grabbed Louis’ hand and followed him out into the throng of people.

After several minutes of polite gyrating, they both gravitated together and spent a few songs grinding heavily on each other.  Louis wasn’t usually so public with his affection, but Eric was hot and he was lonely and, okay, more than a little horny and he thought he honest-to-god moaned at some point when he was straddling the guy’s thigh.

“You wanna go somewhere more private?” Eric’s breathy question came when he bent down to whisper into Louis’ ear.  Beyond words, Louis just nodded and allowed himself to be led to the side of the club, which was roped off and contained several couches for doing, well, exactly what they intended on doing.  He passed Niall on their way back, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up before returning his attention to the no less than six people with whom he was dancing.

Feeling the need to control the situation, Louis guided Eric to a sitting position on the couch and chose to sit astride facing him.  Eric initiated the kiss, though, and Harry had been the only person Louis had kissed for so long that it took him a few moments to acclimate himself to the unfamiliar rhythm and pace of another’s lips and teeth and tongue.

He kept his eyes closed – he refused to think about why – until Eric began to explore more than just his mouth.  His hands slid down Louis’ back and squeezed his bum and he let out a little yelp of surprise.

“Was that alright?” Eric asked pulling away, mildly alarmed.

Instead of answering, mostly because he wasn’t sure of the answer, Louis simply pulled his mouth back to his lips and began undoing the buttons on Eric’s shirt.  His fingertips brushed over the muscled ridges and valleys of his chest and abs; Eric sat up straighter, further defining the outlines of his clenched muscles.

“Louis?”  Eric had paused, but Louis just pressed his forehead to Eric’s and kept his eyes closed.  If he didn’t look, didn’t think too hard about what was happening, he could ignore the panicky feeling in his chest that made him want to run and hide.  “Louis, are you alright?”

If he ever wanted to get over… him… this was what had to happen.  Louis opened his eyes.  “M’fine,” he choked out, hoping the gravelly edge in his tone would be mistaken for arousal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eric was concerned, and alright, that was pretty sweet.  Maybe, if Louis had to do this, Eric was an okay person to do it with.  In answer, Louis slid the undone shirt off his shoulders and began planting a line of kisses down his collarbone and over to his shoulder.  He froze, though, when beneath his lips he discovered the outline of a bird.

Louis pulled back with a gasp.  It wasn’t a swallow, as he’d first thought, but it was still eerily reminiscent of, well…

“I’m sorry.  I can’t – I’ve… I’ve gotta go,” Louis murmured, disentangling himself from the bewildered man beneath him.

“Louis!” he called after, but Louis had the advantage of being smaller and not intoxicated, and wove his way back to the large dance room faster than Eric could follow.

Niall, despite his considerable audience, spotted Louis’ distressed form darting through the crowd and followed him out the door to the alleyway.  Louis was leaning up against the dirty brick wall, hunched over and clutching his chest.

“You havin’ a heart attack?” Niall asked lightly, skipping over to him.

Louis shook his head and braced his hands on his thighs, still not looking up.  “M’fine,” he wheezed, hoping that would appease his coworker.

Most people would probably characterize Niall as carefree – or flaky, if they wanted to be mean about it – but he was quite sensitive to people’s emotions, and easily spotted Louis’ lie.  “Want me to take you home?”  He could tell how reluctant Louis was to come in the first place; he’d been inviting him to go every week since he started working there, and so was surprised when Louis actually agreed this time.  So, he felt kind of responsible for making sure he had an alright time; and Louis looked far from alright.

Louis shook his head again.  He didn’t like people worrying over him; he allowed it from Liam simply because the boy would not leave him alone otherwise.  When Niall didn’t move, he figured he’d have to actually speak.  “Go back in and have a good time.”  He’d hoped his voice sounded steady and reassuring, but it came out broken and at too high a pitch.

Instead of doing as instructed, Niall threw his arms around Louis in a huge bear hug and rocked him back and forth.  Louis was horrified to realize he was shaking and tears were streaming down his cheeks, but Niall… he didn’t seem to care.  He just let Louis fall apart in his arms and patted his back and whispered things like “I got ya” and “let it all out,” which only made Louis cry harder.

Niall did, in fact, take Louis back to his apartment, and even ordered pizza and late night cookies – food solved any numbers of ills, he insisted – and stayed to watch a Netflix movie.  Niall fell asleep halfway through and Louis didn’t have the heart to wake him; he’d been so nice to him that night, after all, and the least he could do was let him crash on the couch.

Louis shut off the tv, threw a blanket over Niall’s sprawling form, and tiptoed over to his bedroom, falling into a more restful night’s sleep than he’d had in a while.

“I thought you’d given up sleeping until noon, you pathetic knob,” Liam called affectionately from the kitchen after he’d let himself into Louis’ apartment.

Louis cast a sideways glance at the clock.  “It’s barely 8:30, dickhead,” he called back from his bed.  “You’d better have brought breakfast,” he continued to grumble as he rolled himself out of bed.

Liam was just setting several takeout bags onto the counter, smiling widely at the blond-haired lad that sat in front of him.  “Had a good night, Lou?” he asked innocently as his disheveled self emerged from his bedroom, still wearing his clubbing outfit from the night before.

Louis scowled.  “He’s a coworker,” he explained.  Niall frowned slightly at the impersonal label, but didn’t say anything.  “There better be donuts in there.”

“Yogurt parfaits and freshly squeezed juice,” Liam corrected before turning to Niall.  “Sorry, mate.  Didn’t realize I’d need food for three.”

“No worries,” Niall responded, though he couldn’t completely hide his disappointment.

Louis crinkled his nose at the healthy-only options.  “He can have mine.”

“You sure?” Niall asked around the mass of fruit and granola that were already swirling around in his mouth.

Louis’ mouth twitched; he hadn’t even heard the bags rustle.  Niall must be some kind of food ninja.  “Sure.  I’m just gonna pop in the shower – still smell like,” he took a dramatic whiff of himself, “sweat and desperation.”  He had already turned toward the bathroom when he was rewarded with a deep belly laugh from Niall.

“Don’t indulge him,” Liam admonished in exasperation.

Louis turned the dial for the water and stripped off his clothes, frowning at his naked body.  The junk food he’d consumed the night before – the first forbidden fruits he’d had in weeks – had already bloated him to the point that his belly stuck out even if he sucked in his abs and held his breath.

“Shit.”  He flipped the water back off and wrapped a towel around his waist to reserve some modesty as he shuffled the few feet over to his bedroom.

“That was fast!” Liam called, catching the streak of white out of the corner of his eye.

“Going for a run!” Louis called back, throwing on some joggers and a slightly worn t-shirt.  He was already dirty; he needn’t soil a perfectly clean garment.  “Feeling a little gross after last night,” he explained, joining the two men in kitchen.

“You really ought to eat something first.” 

“Oi, can you stop mothering me for one day, Li?” 

Liam frowned.  He could not; it was against his nature.  “At least take some water,” he pleaded, grabbing a bottle from the fridge.

Louis backed away and pulled his leg back in a stretch.  “You know I can’t run while I’m holding one of those bloody things.”  He was already reaching for the door handle when Liam started to protest.  Louis cut him off.  “Lock up when you leave!”

Louis started off at a steady pace, warming up with a slow weave through the foot traffic on the city sidewalks.  By the time he got to the park, he sped up.  He looped it once, twice, faster and faster, and… yeah, he was probably using exercise to punish himself for the night before and that probably wasn’t healthy.  He slowed to a walk, though his circulatory system didn’t seem to notice, and berated himself for having fallen back into the bad psychological habits that he’d worked so hard over the years to break.  Or, at least he thought he’d broken them, but Harry had said something very similar when he…

Suddenly Louis couldn’t breathe.  He didn’t know if it was thoughts of Harry or the rising temperature or, god forbid, that Liam was right and he should have had a damn banana, but his heart was racing and he was stumbling over his own feet and the whole world was getting brighter.  He tried to make it to a bench, but his vision was blurry and his limbs felt like lead.

Louis had just enough sense to get to his hands and knees on the soft grass before everything faded away.


	3. The Discovery

The first thing Louis noticed was the noise.  The incessant beeping that was sounding in time with his pulse.  When he cracked his eyes open and tried to roll over, he also discovered that his arm was tethered to an IV that was steadily administering a clear fluid directly into his veins.  He sat up quickly, only to lay back down when his head started spinning and—

Oh yeah.  That’s how he ended up here in the first place.

“Easy, now,” a soft female voice cautioned him.  “I think one fainting spell is quite enough for one day.”

“What happened?”  Louis’ voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat a few times.  The woman – who must be a doctor, judging from the crisp white coat and very official-looking clipboard – handed him a glass of water that had been resting on the table beside his bed.

“How ‘bout we start with your name?”

Louis eyed the stranger warily.  She was young, but carried herself with a confidence that came with authority and experience; her features were sharp but her eyes were soft, and Louis quickly warmed to her.  He swallowed a couple more gulps of water.  “Louis.  Tomlinson.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Tomlinson.  I’m Dr. Reid.”  She extended her hand and Louis took it weakly, still a little dazed.  “Now, what do you remember?”

Louis screwed his eyes shut and tried to bring the fuzzy pieces into focus.  “I was out for a run.  Got dizzy, sat down.  Then… now I’m here.”

She smiled sympathetically.  “A nice older couple found you laid out in the grass and called the paramedics.”  At his panicked expression, she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “You were overheated and under-hydrated, so we cooled you down and pumped you full of saline.  Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Louis shrugged.  He didn’t really like hospitals where people lay sick and dying, or doctors that asked too many personal questions that never seemed relevant.  But, he doubted he would get out of here without answering at least a few of her inquiries.  “I guess.”

“Who is your primary physician?”

“Don’t have one.”  He had always been relatively healthy, and the few times he was sick enough to warrant medication, he just went to one of those walk-in clinics where, much like Louis, they just wanted you in and out as fast as possible.

Dr. Reid’s practiced smile faltered.  “You don’t have someone you see regularly, or you don’t go at all?”

Louis shrugged again.  “Don’t go if I’m not sick,” he said by way of explanation; a misguided one, considering that it had landed him in a hospital bed.

“Have you had any kind of prenatal care, Mr. Tomlinson?”  Her tone wasn’t accusatory, more wary, and maybe a little sad.

“What?”  Louis shot upright, this time ignoring the stars that momentarily clouded his vision while his blood pressure stabilized after the rapid shift in position.  “I’m not pregnant.”

“Your blood work would beg to differ.”

“But- but I haven’t had sex!”  Dr. Reid’s eyebrows rose considerably, and Louis amended his previous statement.  “Recently.”

She flipped through a few pages on the chart she was holding as her eyes raked over the information.  “Somewhere in the 17-20 week range, if I had to guess based on your hormone levels.”

Louis stopped breathing altogether.  Four months.  It had been a little over four months since Louis took that pregnancy test.  “But it was negative.”  He gazed at the doctor with the confused innocence of a child.  “The test was negative.”

“You took a test?”

He nodded.  “M-months ago.  Back in… February?”  That’s when it occurred to him that this might have been his own damn fault.  He had forgotten to get anything for Harry for his birthday, and opted to instead perform some very elaborate and imaginative experiments in the bedroom.  So instead of buying him socks or a tie or something, Louis had to go and give him a baby.  Well, Harry always did prefer homemade gifts.  Louis shook his head in disbelief.  This whole thing was absurd.  “I’m not pregnant,” he again insisted.

When she saw that lost look on her patient’s face, Dr. Reid decided to put aside professionalism and sit down on the edge of his bed, taking hold of one of his hands.  “Lots of things can generate a false negative – if it was early on in the pregnancy and taken later in the day or after drinking too much water, the levels in the sample could have been too diluted to pick up.”

“But.  But I haven’t put on any weight!”  If anything, he’d lost a few pounds in the post-post breakup phase, and he was holding onto absolutely anything that might prove this woman wrong.

“Every body is different.”  She hesitated, debating whether or not to say what she was thinking; when Louis continued to stare with disbelief clear on his face, she decided to press on.  “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Tomlinson, but… I do think you are showing a little bit.”  The horrified look she got in response prompted her to explain further.  “Not much!  A bit small for this late in the pregnancy, actually, but still.  It’s there.”

Louis fought the urge to tuck his hands around his stomach, to pull his gown tight to reveal the silhouette of his stomach.  But, he knew what he would find – that small bit of pudge beneath his belly button that had not gone away no matter how much salad he ate or how many miles he ran.  So instead, he folded his arms across his chest and stared intently out the window.

“Mr. Tomlinson, I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”  Louis neither affirmed nor denied this statement, and her heart went out to him.  “But since this the first time you’ve been to a doctor, I suggest that we go ahead and perform an ultrasound to make sure everything’s okay, developing normally.  Would that be alright?” she prompted when he didn’t reply.

Louis took deep breaths, watching as a small bird struggled and flitted up to the window, hovered for a few moments, then appeared to simply plummet back down to the earth like a rock.  He couldn’t help but feel like his life was following a similar course.  “Okay.” 

The word was released on barely enough air to reach her ears, but it was all she needed.  Normally she would let one of the techs take over from here, but there was something about him – his vulnerability, his shock, his fear – that made her want to see this through, to make sure he came out the other side.

Less than an hour had passed since finding out he was, in fact, pregnant and Louis was already lying back in bed with his shirt up, supposedly about to see his baby for the first time.  He still wasn’t quite sure he believed Dr. Reid; I mean, he would know if his body had been growing a baby all this time, wouldn’t he?

The screen flickered to life as some cold, clear gel was unceremoniously squirted onto his abdomen, then Dr. Reid pressed the wand over top to swirl it around.  For a few seconds, the ultrasound picture just looked like a confusing mass of grainy gray, but she very quickly found what she was looking for – a dark black cavity, and nestled into one side was the distinct outline of—

“A baby,” Louis whispered.

“Indeed it is.”  Dr. Reid was gauging Louis’ reaction carefully; he had seemed reluctant and fairly deep in denial, and she wasn’t exactly sure what positive proof would do to his mental state.

Louis was gobsmacked.  There it was, right in front of him – it had a nose and eyes and fingers and god it was _moving_.  Why couldn’t he feel it moving?  Was that normal?  Was something wrong?  He tried to remember everything he’d done over the past few months; had he smoked?  Drank?  Was he eating too little?  Too much?  Shit.  He couldn’t remember.  He didn’t know.  He may have already fucked this kid’s life up, and he only just found out it existed!   He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that this was happening, that it was _real_.

“I’m—there’s a baby in me.”  He turned his shocked expression toward the doctor.  “I’m having a baby.”

“A very healthy one from the looks of it.”

“Really?”  Tears welled up in Louis’ eyes and he wasn’t sure exactly why.  “Even though I didn’t—I haven’t—“

She nodded and smiled at the relief evident on his face; with one flick of a switch on the machine, a swift whooshing sound filled the room.  “See?  Nice, strong heartbeat.” 

At that point, Louis’ throat closed up completely; his breaths were coming in shallow rasps and he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking.  His mind was already racing and he had to ask the doctor to repeat what she was saying at least three times.

“I asked if you would you like to know the sex,” she repeated patiently.  Louis swiftly shook his head; he wasn’t sure he could survive the reveal of another life changing piece of information.  “Alright, then I guess we’re all done here.  I’ll print you off some pictures, prescribe you some prenatal vitamins, and send you on your way.”

Louis nodded absently, numbly, as she thrusted some glossy printouts and a handwritten prescription into his hand, wishing him well, offering her personal cell number in case he needed anything, and ushering in the nurse that would begin the process of discharging him.

After leaving the hospital with an armful of pictures, pamphlets, and pills, Louis wasn’t sure what to do with himself.  He was _pregnant_.  It seemed wrong to just… go back to living his normal life like everything wasn’t completely different now.

He plopped down at one of the picnic tables in the park and spread out the informational booklets in front of him.  They included information on everything from the stages of pregnancy to birthing classes.  It was too late to terminate the pregnancy, he had been informed, but there were brochures for several adoption agencies among his materials.  His eyes welled with tears at the thought of either of those options as again they drifted toward the first pictures of his baby – his _baby._

He was so overwhelmed, and he didn’t even know by what.  He was scared, definitely.  But also happy, maybe?  God, of all the futures he imagined for himself, being a single father was never among them.  And that’s when Louis remembered…

Shit.

Harry.  Harry was going to be a father too.

Shitshitshit.

Louis didn’t want to tell him.  He was terrified of his reaction.  Would he think Louis was lying?  Either now or, god, back then?  What if he thought Louis had been hiding his pregnancy all this time?  He didn’t think he’d abandon Louis, but would Harry resent him for forcing him back into his life when all he had wanted was for Louis to let him go?

He had almost decided just to figure this out on his own when it hit him.  This was exactly what Harry had accused him of back then.  Only this time it was real.  He was having a baby.  And he was actually considering not telling Harry about it, maybe ever.  How messed up was he?

Well, he refused to make that same mistake again.  As much as the voice in the back of his head was trying to convince him to leave Harry out of it – that he had broken up with Louis because he didn’t care about him and wouldn’t want anything to do with their baby – he had decided to take a leap of faith.  He trusted Harry’s words more than the ones in his own traitorous mind, the ones that he always listened to that had steered him wrong his whole life.

So he was going to see _Harry_ , and he was stale from dried sweat and still gross from the club and god, was that only last night because it seemed like so long ago and shit he had kissed another guy and- he had to shower.  He was going to see Harry.  And tell him that they were having a baby.  He needed… well, a shower.  He’d start with a shower.

Louis gathered up his large spread of items and hurried back to his apartment; it was mercifully empty, and he dumped the contents of his arms onto the coffee table.  He tore off his clothes and turned on the water, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible; the more time he had to think, the more likely he was going to succumb to the urge to withdraw, to isolate, to lose the nerve to ever leave his house again.

He stepped under the steaming water – was water that was too hot bad for the baby?  _Focus, Louis_ – and reached for the special smelling soap that he hadn’t used in months, the one that he knew was Harry’s favorite.  He moved his hands over his body, exploring the swell of his stomach that had been there for weeks but now held much more significance.

_There’s a baby in there_ , he thought, rubbing his hand back and forth from the top to the bottom of the small bump.  He still wasn’t sure how he felt – wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, knowing that fear would soon overtake anything else that managed to surface – and quickly finished his bathing routine.

He didn’t want to give anything away upfront, so Louis chose a loose football jersey to go with his signature skinnies.  He tried to tame his mess of fringe, but it wasn’t completely dry and Louis’ patience/control was running thin and he decided to just let it do what it wanted.  Harry always liked it a little wild anyway, and his heart sped up at the thought that he was going to do it; he was actually going to see Harry again.  He refused to imagine what the result of this meeting would be… but he had to admit he had his hopes up.

Louis was beyond nervous, practically skipping with excess adrenaline as he made his way over to Harry’s place of work.  The bakery would be closed by now, but he always stayed late to clean up and try out new recipes.  Or, at least he used to.  It hurt that maybe Louis didn’t know what Harry’s life might look like anymore.

His fears were assuaged – or perhaps heightened – when he saw a soft glow emanating from the welcoming storefront.  Louis took a few deep breaths, patting at the sonogram picture he’d stuffed into his back pocket before he had psyched himself up enough to push through the door.  Whatever momentum he’d built up came to a screeching halt when he came upon the last person he expected to find in the shop.

“Liam?”

“Louis?”  Damnit.  He hadn’t told Louis about his weekly meetings with Harry; he had intended to, honestly, but he was hoping to wait until a little more time had passed, maybe when Louis started seeing someone new.

“Louis.”  Harry was on his feet, a hand outstretched like he was reaching out for him.  Louis backed up toward the door.  “Louis, wait –“

“How could you?”  Louis was looking back and forth between his ex boyfriend and his best friend.

“Louis, stop.  You’re jumping to conclusions.”  Liam felt guilty, but he was trying to be firm with Louis, to set the record straight before he blew this out of proportion.  Unfortunately, Louis was on the edge of an emotional cliff and in no mood to be talked down to.

“So you’re saying you’re not sitting here chatting and laughing and sharing a meal with the man that broke my heart?  That I spent months –“  Louis stopped himself from giving Harry the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply he’d hurt him.  “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it doesn’t matter, because nothing is going on here!” Liam rationalized, seeming to fail to comprehend just how much the discovery had hurt Louis in this fragile moment.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, finally finding his voice.

Louis turned back to Harry; he’d thought he couldn’t hurt worse than the night Harry had broken up with him but he was wrong.  Then, there had been nothing at stake but his own life, his own heart.  But now his best friend had betrayed him too and he had no one.  No one but an innocent little baby that he still had no idea what to do with, that he didn’t even know if he wanted and god, he just felt guilty for all of it.  Either he had pushed them away or they realized just how messed he was and left of their own accord, but that’s when he knew.  He couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t have a baby; he couldn’t be a father.

Louis spun on his heel and marched out the door without saying a word.  What was there to say?  He didn’t want to go back to his apartment – Liam had a key and could get in if he wanted.  His feet carried him to the only place he could think of.  He walked to his office.

It was much too far to walk, especially considering he had just been in the hospital earlier that day, but he didn’t care.  If anyone was even there this late, his coworkers wouldn’t care enough to be concerned and ask him about the red nose and puffy eyes he’d surely have by the time he got there.

He said a quick hello to the security guard before taking the lift up to the third floor, which held the offices of the writers and editors that worked on the sports section of the magazine.  Most people worked from home, especially on the weekend, so he was surprised when the elevator opened to reveal a single figure typing away at a computer by the glass doors.  Louis tried to enter silently, hoping to just make his way to his office where he could suffer in solitude, but the loud squeak that accompanied the door shutting behind him gave him away.

“Louis?”

“Niall?”  The blond’s presence honestly surprised him.  If it had been anyone else, Louis would have been able to plaster on a smile and pass by with minimal effort.  As it was, the memories from last night came flooding back, followed by the events of that day.  So much had changed since he’d last seen him just this morning and he just couldn’t pretend like everything was okay when it damn well wasn’t.

“You okay, buddy?”  Niall got up from his chair when Louis shook his head and wrapped his arms around him much like he had the night before.  He didn’t know all that much about Louis – his coworker was pretty private, and last night was the first time he’d actually spent time with him outside the office – but he could tell he was hurting and wanted to offer what he could to make it better.  “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked when Louis’ wails had quieted to intermittent sniffling.  Still beyond words, Louis simply reached back into his pocket and pulled out the sonogram picture – the one he was going to give to Harry – and handed it to Niall.  “Is this yours?” he asked in disbelief, studying the printout closely.  Louis nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  “You’re pregnant?”

He was staring at Louis’ midsection skeptically and Louis let out a wet laugh.  “That’s what they tell me.”

“Want to stay and talk about it?”  Louis shifted uncomfortably; he didn’t really want to go home, but he also didn’t know Niall very well and opening up to people wasn’t his strong suit.  “Or stay and not talk about it?  Or leave and talk about it, or not talk about it… the possibilities are endless, really.”

Louis snorted a laugh.  “Really?  What other options are there?”

Niall glanced around their office space.  “Eh, trash the place?  Eat whatever anyone’s left in the fridge?  Jump out the window?”

“Careful now, I might just take you up on that last one.”  Niall studied him with concern, trying to determine whether or not he was kidding and- alright Louis wasn’t suicidal, but he wasn’t exactly over the moon about the whole thing either.  “Kidding, Niall,” he said, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his hair.  When the corners of Niall’s mouth were still turned down in uncertainty, Louis decided he owed him at least a little something.  “Stay and chat for a bit?”

Louis still didn’t understand why anyone would want to talk to him, and so was taken slightly aback when Niall enthusiastically agreed – with the caveat that they would have to order food because, well, he’d actually already staked out the fridge in the common area and found nothing worth eating.  And that was how Louis spent his evening, eating Chinese food on his office couch and telling his life’s story to a man he barely knew.

Liam left the bakery shortly after Louis had; Harry had wanted to go too, but with some persuading was convinced that perhaps that was not the best idea.  Louis was a creature of habit, though, so Liam assumed he would go back somewhere comfortable, somewhere familiar.  Somewhere like his flat.

He was contrite enough to knock a few times, at regularly increasing volumes, but when the deadbolt remained firmly in place he decided it was time to take out the spare key that he was sure Louis regretted giving him by now.

Liam went in expecting to find Louis pouting on the couch or in his bedroom, but the place was much the same as when he and Niall had locked up that morning.  Still, there was a strong chance that Louis had simply tucked himself under an inconspicuous pile of blankets; the man was small, after all, and could be easily overlooked if he wanted to be.

“Louis?  Louis, we need to talk about this.”  Liam poked his head into the bedroom, but the comforter was twisted and slung in positions into which no human body could contort.  He flung open the shower curtain with anticipation, but it too was empty.  The couch, however, held a suspiciously round mound of fabric in one corner.  Instead of announcing this discovery, Liam simply pounced on the unsuspecting ball with an exclamatory, “Aha!” but it collapsed easily beneath him.  “Are you really not here, Lou?” he called into the obviously empty apartment.

From his position, Liam was at eye level with the coffee table.  That morning, it had been clear; now, it was covered with papers and bags and—

Liam narrowed his eyes and sat up straight.  He nosed around in the bag, which was a prescription made out for Louis that contained some sort of vitamins he couldn’t pronounce.  He reached for one of the nearest packets, which read “Week by Week Guide to Male Pregnancy”.  He gasped and reached for some of the other materials.  There were things like “So, You’re Thinking about Adoption” and “Foods to Avoid during Pregnancy”, but also a birthing class calendar along with a diagram that was mostly pictures and—nope, Liam did not need to look at that one too closely.

There was one page that stood out from the others; it had Louis’ name on it and today’s date and was glossy and fuzzy but distinctly baby shaped and when the hell did Liam’s eyes start watering?  Louis was pregnant.  A small part of him preened at the thought that he had actually been right all those weeks ago, but a much larger part of him was filled with overwhelming empathy.  Louis was probably alone and scared and where the hell would he have gone?

The only place Liam could think of was his office; but that was ages away and if Louis had walked there in his condition – his _condition_ – Liam was going to have some words with him.  As an afterthought, he grabbed the bag of prescriptions from the table and tucked it under his arm before heading out the door in search of his best friend.

Even at a quick clip, it took Liam over an hour to get to Louis’ office building.  The security guard refused to let him up; he’d even called up to Louis’ office to try and get permission.  Based on the loud, indistinct exclamations coming through the receiver, Liam didn’t think he was going to receive any such welcome.

“Can you- can I at least leave this here for him?” Liam asked, setting the bag down on the guard’s desk and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  The elderly guard eyed the package suspiciously, and Liam pulled it open to reveal the contents.  “They’re for Louis.  I think- well he probably needs these and he’d better take them.  I think he would, but he’s too damn stubborn and hardheaded to come down here and get them himself and I know he’s mad but he _needs_ these and –“

The uniformed man held up a hand to silence Liam’s incessant rambling.  “I’ll make sure Mr. Tomlinson gets these.”

Liam stuck his lip out, hating that he couldn’t even see this one thing through, that his best friend wouldn’t allow him to be there for him at a time like this.  “Tonight?” he clarified, and the guard nodded.  With an appeased, if dissatisfied, grumble, Liam made his way back out the way he came. 

He wanted to make this right; to tell Harry what he knew and then they could get back together like everyone fucking knew they should.  But this was not his news to share.  Louis was already pissed off – or whatever emotion was causing him to run and hide from the one person in the world that probably knew him best – but he’d never forgive him if he meddled in this.  Like all the frustratingly important decisions in his life, this was something Louis had to do in his own time, in his own way.

Liam just hoped that it wouldn’t be too late.  For any of them.


	4. The Horans

It was well into the night when Louis had finished recounting his saga to Niall.  He never knew his biological father and had lost his mother at far too young an age.  They had tried to keep him and his siblings together in foster care, but there were too many of them.  No one would take them all, but occasionally he got placed with one or two of them – Lottie most often, since they were the closest in age – and each home was more horrible than the last.  Most of the families were only in it for the money, and the children were often resented and mistreated.  Since Louis was the oldest and felt responsible for the littles, he took it upon himself to bear the brunt of the parents’ abuse only to turn around and shower his siblings, biological or otherwise, with the love and affection they wouldn’t get anywhere else.

After years of following this pattern, he had gotten good at both hiding the toll his upbringing had taken on him as well as projecting an outward appearance of being okay.  It was all worth it, though; he would do it all again just to see the amazing lives his brothers and sisters were now living.  They were thriving; they were happy.

Louis, however, was a psychological wreck.  He’d developed pretty much every kind of relational issue there was a word for.  For a long time, he just suffered through it, like he had learned to do his whole life.  But everything changed when he met Harry.  For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just acting content… he _was_ content.  Harry saw Louis for who he was, but also saw everything that he could be.  He didn’t just let Louis glide through a life that was ‘good enough’ – he wanted him to be the best version of himself that there was.  This was at the heart of most of their fights, but Louis finally thought he had gotten to a place where he was living his best life.  Unfortunately, even his best life apparently wasn’t enough for Harry.  How could it be?

“Eh, that sucks, mate.”  Niall was quiet for a moment; he had learned way more about Louis than he thought possible, but he still hadn’t brought up the picture that was still clutched in his hand.  “What did he say when you told him?”

Louis’ fist tightened around the printout.  “Didn’t get the chance.”

Niall frowned in confusion.  “What, he kicked you out before you could get a word in?”  He’d never met Harry, but from the way Louis talked about him – the idiot was still obviously in love with him – that sounded a bit harsh.

“No, he was –“  The memory caused a knot to form in his throat.  “He was with Liam – the guy who came by my flat this morning.”

Niall glanced at the clock.  It was well into the wee hours of the morning, and so technically it was yesterday morning, but he didn’t bother correcting him.  “So?” he prompted when Louis offered no further explanation.

“So?  So!”  Louis wasn’t sure he could even explain his feeling of betrayal – to Niall or himself.  “He- my best friend.  Was on a date with my ex boyfriend.”

“A date?”  Niall cocked a skeptical eyebrow; that seemed like something Louis would have mentioned earlier.

“Well, they were eating.  Together.  Alone.  That’s a date, yeah?”

Niall pursed his lips.  “We were just eating together alone.  Were we on a date then?”  Louis turned with a horrified look and an indignant gasp.  “I’m just sayin.”

“Well don’t.”  Louis crossed his arms over his chest petulantly.

“Look, from what you’ve told me, you two been friends for, like, ever.  He brought you these… pill things of yours.  He obviously cares about you; I don’t think he’d purposely do anything to hurt you.”

Louis sniffed.  “But he did.”

Niall sighed and rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin.  “Well he’s your best friend, and he’s got a key to your place.  You gonna change your number?  Change your locks?  _Move_?”  Louis looked like he was considering it and Niall sighed again.  “Louis –“

“I know, I know.  He probably… well, he wouldn’t do that.”  Louis wanted to believe that neither of them would do that to him, but he didn’t know what to believe about Harry anymore.  “God, he’s probably waiting there for me right now.”  He so did not have the energy to face Liam.  Louis yawned and stretched and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“You look exhausted, mate.”

“M’knackered.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?  I’ve got some work to get done anyway – _some_ body burst in here all moanin’ and cryin’ a while ago.”  Louis punched him lightly in the shoulder.  “You will have to go home eventually, though.”

The thought made Louis’ jaw clench and his stomach twist into knots.  “I know.  I just- I can’t.  Not yet.”  He knew he was being irrational about it – blame it on the pregnancy hormones – but he was still just so angry and hurt.  He knew Liam would be waiting for him, and he just wasn’t ready for that.

Niall thought about it for a moment.  “I’m going to me mum’s later.  You can hang around here for now and then come with me, if you like.”  Louis looked at his friend – funny how he’d come to think of him that way after only a day or so – like he’d grown three heads.  Niall threw up his hands in surrender.  “Just a suggestion.”  Louis still looked stricken.  “It’s dinner, not a marriage proposal.”  Louis’ eyes widened and Niall burst out laughing, his feet coming off the ground as he rolled onto his side until he could compose himself enough to speak again.  “I’m headed out around 4, take it or leave it.”  With a shrug, he left Louis to decide his fate.

Ultimately, Louis decided that his anxiety at facing Liam outweighed his wariness about having dinner with complete strangers.

Niall’s family was nice enough; his sister-in-law was away for the weekend, but all the Horans were there – his mum and dad, brother and nephew.  Apparently Niall came from a family of huggers, and even little Theo clung tightly around Louis’ neck when he was introduced.

“He likes you,” Niall’s brother, Greg, commented.

“Not more than me!” Niall called from the kitchen, clearly offended.

Greg walked closer and stage-whispered, “A bit more, I think.  Uncle Niall steals his food.”  Louis looked to Theo, who nodded gravely in agreement.

Louis burst out laughing and ruffled the boy’s hair.  “Don’t worry, I would never take food from a growing boy.”  He knelt down to eye level and whispered conspiratorially, “May even sneak you an extra biscuit after dinner if you’re a good little lad.”

Theo’s eyes widened and he looked to his dad; Greg shrugged.  “What happens at grandma’s…”

Theo turned excitedly back to his newest partner in crime and grabbed his hand, assuming rather than asking that he wanted to play.

“Can’t we just play some fucking football?” Louis whined as Theo once again sunk his ball directly in the hole with his tiny golf club.

“Language!” a motherly voice warned from inside the house.

“I’m terrible at this fucking game,” Louis said, quieter this time, as his ball sped a good four feet past the hole; Theo giggled as he was once again exposed to the clearly ‘naughty’ word.

“As much as I enjoy watching our sports editor fail miserably on a backyard putting green,” Niall said, coming up behind them and clapping Louis on the shoulder, “dinner’s ready.”  Niall swooped in and tossed his nephew over his shoulder.  “How ‘bout it, lads – ready for a nice Sunday roast?”

“No!” Theo wailed and wiggled in Niall’s grasp.  “Lou!  Want Lou!  Carry me!”  His distressed toddler English was broken up, but he got the idea.  Niall placed him down and Theo sprinted over to his new playmate.

Louis was taken aback momentarily, and was nearly bowled over when surprisingly strong arms clamped around his legs, almost causing his knees to buckle.  “You- you want me to carry you?”  Theo’s little head nodded from between his thighs and Louis looked to Niall, who shrugged.

“If you don’t pick him up, I suspect you’ll have to drag him along behind you, yeah?”

Louis looked down into wide pleading eyes.  “Ehm, up you go, I guess.”  He barely had time to bend down before his arms were full.  Theo wrapped his little legs as far as they would go around Louis’ torso, coiled his arms around his neck in a chokehold, and buried his blond head into his shoulder.  He hadn’t really held a child since, well, since he was one himself, but it all came crashing back down on him in an instant.

All those nights he held his siblings as they cried in loneliness and pain; all those times they leaped into his arms in fear and doubt; all those times they’d cried and said goodbye, never sure whether that might be the last time they saw each other.

All of these memories that he’d long suppressed came flooding back and by the time he’d reached the house he had to lean up against the door frame for support.

“Are you alright, dear?” Maura asked, setting down the vegetables she had been scooping into a serving dish.  Niall’s mom reminded him so much of his own – not in appearance, necessarily, but in all the unconditional love and maternal concern she poured out on everyone she met – and finally he just couldn’t take anymore.  A single tear escaped his eye and it broke the dam that he hadn’t even realized he’d constructed.  “Oh, honey.”

Theo was still in his arms; the boy didn’t know what was wrong, just that his friend was sad, and so simply squeezed him tighter and gently patted his back.  “It’s okay,” he whispered, no doubt repeating the comforting words his parents spoke to him when he was crying.

Maura also came up and wrapped her arms around Louis.  “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”  At this, Louis just cried harder, having received more familial love and support from people he’d just met than he’d ever had growing up.  “How about some pie?  Pie makes everything better,” she suggested after he’d gained a modicum of composure.  Louis laughed – so this was where Niall had gotten the idea that food could solve any problem.

“Me too?”  Theo suddenly perked up; he hadn’t had an ounce of real food yet, and the thought of dessert before dinner was like a dream come true.

Maura pursed her lips, pretending to consider though she already knew the answer.  Her husband and two sons had already helped themselves to the meal, which was surely cold by now, and Theo was unlikely to eat anything of nutritional value without his mum there to bring down the hammer anyway.  “I suppose, just this once.”

Theo squealed and jumped out of Louis’ arms, now too excited to remain in one place.  “Just this once, eh?” he asked skeptically.

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”  She nodded definitively and marched into the dining room to clear the table for dessert.

After a round of oversized servings of blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream, Louis was pleasantly stuffed – and also pleasantly surprised that it hadn’t yet tried to come back up his throat.

“You’ve got the magic touch, Mrs. Horan,” he observed, patting his swollen belly. 

Her eyes widened slightly, not having previously noticed this physical attribute, but recovered quickly.  “Had to with this family.  Greg wouldn’t eat anything but my cookin’ until he was 22.”

“Hey.”  Greg protested the release of this bit of information, but didn’t contest it.  “Can you blame me?” he asked Louis, who shook his head. 

Theo was hopped up on sugar and running around the living room like a wild man.  Greg pushed his chair back with a groan and started to slowly get up when Louis gestured for him to sit back down.  “I’ve got him.”

“You sure?”  Louis nodded.  Theo was a handful, Greg knew, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for some rest and relaxation if Louis was naïve enough to volunteer.  “Be my guest.”

Within minutes, Theo had Louis crawling around on the floor, riding on his back like a horse and squealing gleefully.  Greg and Bobby were dozing on the furniture around them while Niall helped his mum clean up in the kitchen.

“Niall, my son, my beautiful boy.”  Niall eyed her suspiciously.  “You know I don’t mind a bit, but… why exactly did you bring this boy round for dinner?”  Niall didn’t know exactly how to explain the situation, and took a sip of his tea to stall for time.  “Is he carrying my grandchild?”

Niall spit out his tea and coughed, bracing himself against the counter until he could breathe normally.  “What?  No, ma, why would you –“  And then the pieces fell into place.  Niall never brought his boyfriends home – most of them weren’t even serious enough to mention, much less meet his family.  So when he showed up on their doorstep with a pregnant guy and no explanation… “He’s a coworker.  Practically my boss.”

“You knocked up your boss?”

“Ma!”  Niall slapped a hand over his eyes in exasperation.  “That’s not- it’s not… wait, how’d you know he was… you know?” he asked, uncovering his eyes.

Maura didn’t really know how to describe it.  It was the lost, slightly overwhelmed look in his eyes; the way he stared at Theo with a mixture of awe and fear; the way he stretched his back and rubbed his tummy.  It was a lot of things that she couldn’t explain to someone who hadn’t been through it.  “A mother just knows.”

“Huh.  Well, no, mother, it is not mine,” he replied to her earlier question indignantly.  “He’s just… havin’ a bit of a rough go of it.  Making it harder on himself than he has to, if you ask me.  Just wanted him to, well, to know he’s not alone.  Or, doesn’t have to be if he doesn’t want to.”  Niall shrugged, almost embarrassed; he tended to care about too many people too quickly – which was why he often got into relationships with the wrong people.

“You’re a sweetheart.”  She pecked him on the cheek and they both returned to tidying up.

When it was finally time to take Theo up to bed, Louis was exhausted; the good kind of exhausted like when you’ve gone to the gym or walked through a museum – like you’ve accomplished something that provided value to your life.  With a tearful goodbye, Theo placed his little hands on Louis’ cheeks, leaned in, and planted a very wet kiss on his lips.

“Love you, Louis.  You’re my favorite.  Don’t tell uncle Niall.”

“Oi!” Niall protested, chasing his nephew until he ran up the stairs, his father following closely behind.  Louis was lying on his back on the floor, his limbs spread out and eyes closed as if he might fall asleep right there.  Niall watched him for a few minutes before deciding to speak.  “There’s a spare bedroom; it’s yours if you want it.”  It would mean Niall would have to sleep on the couch, but he didn’t offer up that bit of information; he was happy to do it.  “You alright?” he asked when Louis didn’t respond.

Louis honestly didn’t know how to answer that.  He had spent the day pleasantly avoiding the question that his mind had been begging him to answer.  He wanted to just keep putting it aside, deal with it later and alone; but Niall had given so much of himself today, the least he could do was talk to the lad.  As much as the idea went against his learned habits, Louis decided to give honesty a try.  “I was thinking about the- well, you know.”  Why was it still so hard for him to admit that there was most definitely a child growing inside him?  “I don’t… I don’t know if I want to keep it.”

Niall tried to hide his surprise.  He knew that the pregnancy was unplanned, but he had seen the way Louis looked at the sonogram picture; the dreamy, contented expression he wore when Theo hugged him; even now, the way he unconsciously put a hand on his tummy when he wasn’t thinking about it.  He was fairly certain Louis wanted this baby… even if Louis himself didn’t realize it.  “Really?”  It was a lame response, but he wasn’t sure what else to say and wanted to keep Louis talking.

“Yeah.  Don’t really know.  Always thought I’d be a bit of a shit parent.”

Niall snorted.  “It took me years to win Theo over; he was yours as soon as you walked in the door.”  His tone wasn’t accusatory, he was just making an observation, and Louis smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, sorry about that.  But how many times have _you_ gotten him dessert before dinner?”

“Was that what did it?”  Louis nodded, and Niall filed this away for future reference.  “Probably doesn’t hurt that you’re shit at golf either.”

Louis grabbed the nearest toy on the floor and lobbed it at Niall, who was laughing mercilessly on the couch.  “I’m a _football_ player.  I play football.  And watch football.  And write about football.”

Niall let out another laugh.  “Keep doin’ that.  Theo loved whoopin’ yer ass!”

Louis tossed another toy in Niall’s direction, but he easily dodged it this time.  After a comfortable silence had settled, Louis found his voice again.  “Thanks for this, Niall.”

“For what?”  If anything, Niall thought Louis had ended up more confused and uncertain than when he’d arrived.

“For listening.  For not… judging my situation.”  Louis shrugged.  “For just being you.”  Louis sighed and pushed himself up to a sitting position.  “I mean, I was a fucking mess when I ran into you and you dropped everything you were doing and listened to me blabber on endlessly and then took me to meet your fucking perfect family and I just –“  With the upwelling of emotion, he was beginning to sound angry, which was the furthest thing from where he was, so he took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing.  “I see it now.  What it could be like.”  He looked up into Niall’s still slightly perplexed eyes.  “To- to have a family.  I just—“   Louis sniffed and took a steadying breath as Niall scooted off the couch to join him on the floor, wrapping him in one of his signature hugs.  “That’s all I want for this baby.  To have a family that it loves and will always love it in return.”

Niall was quiet for a long moment, deciding whether to add his opinion to the thoughts already swirling around in Louis’ head.  Well, he was never one to keep quiet.  “You know that doesn’t mean you have to give it away, right?”  Louis pulled away to look up at him warily and Niall sighed.  “What kids need more n’anything is love.  And it looks to me like you got that to spare.”

Louis hung his head; he wanted to believe his new friend, but that was just it.  He was new to Louis’ life; he couldn’t possibly understand how messed up he was.  Instead of explaining all this to Niall, he simply went for the easier explanation.  “Babies need more than just love, Niall.  They need, like, time and attention and space and understanding and… god, what if I just don’t have it in me?”  He turned to Niall then, whose eyebrows were drawn together in concern.  “I know what it’s like to grow up with parents that should never have been entrusted with that responsibility.  I can’t- I can’t do that to my child.  I won’t.”

Niall stayed silent, and Louis had just about given up on hearing his thoughts when he finally spoke quietly – well, quiet for Niall anyway.  “You know, Greg and his wife had a miscarriage before they had Theo.”  Niall wrung his hands together; this was getting a bit personal, even for him.  “They were heartbroken.  Afraid to even try again for fear that they’d lose it too.  Weren’t sure they’d be able to survive it again.”  He bowed his head, remembering all the screaming matches and tears that had filled that year.  “Then, when they found out she was expecting… well, they were fucking terrified.  Didn’t tell anyone for the longest time.”  Niall smiled, convinced that Greg still had the imprint of their mother’s hand on the back of his head from when she found out they’d been keeping it a secret for so long.

Louis wanted to ask what the hell this had to do with him – the topic was making him uncomfortable, and he wrapped both hands around his small bump as if they could keep it safe and protected – but held his tongue.  “I’m sorry; that must’ve been rough.”

Niall nodded.  “Yeah; back then we were not the plucky, happy-go-lucky Horans you met today.  But.  Now they have Theo.  And he’s a fickle little twat,” Niall said, narrowing his eyes at Louis playfully, “but still the best thing that’s ever happened to ‘em.”

“I, uh… I don’t disagree, Niall.  But… what exactly is your point?”

Niall turned to him, serious and focused, as if willing Louis to heed his next words.  “My point is that… well, you can’t predict the future.  There’s no preparing for whatever shitstorms life throws at you.  But you can decide who you want to weather them with.  You can decide what’s important to ya, and hold on like hell to it.”

Louis picked at a stray carpet fiber, pulling it out of the weave even more than it had been and trying to distract himself from the stinging in his eyes.  “I’m just… I don’t know how to do that.”

Niall threw an arm around Louis’ shoulder, almost making him topple over from the force of it.  “Talkin’ about it like this to people that care about you is a good start.”  He didn’t explicitly say it, but the image of Liam moping endlessly around Louis’ empty apartment came to mind.

Louis’ chest squeezed at this statement; he wanted so badly to believe him.  But he just couldn’t.  “I’m a horrible person.  I’ve pushed him away one too many times.  He couldn’t possibly still care about me.”  He wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Liam or Harry, but it didn’t matter; it applied to them both.

“Louis.”  Niall was looking at him with such sadness, and he hadn’t even realized he’d voiced those thoughts aloud.  “You know that’s not true, right?”  Louis jerked his head away and stared pointedly at the floor.  “Well I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have a friend in me, yeah?”

Louis looked up warily.  “Why?” he croaked.  Niall barely knew him, but what he did know was that Louis was a wreck, a disaster, a minefield.  Why would he possibly want to remain a part of his life?

Niall was unfazed by the depths of Louis’ self-loathing.  “Why does anyone care about anyone?  I like you – you’re funny and smart and fucking selfless to a fault, and yeah, you’ve got a bit of this whole inferiority complex thing going on, but so what?  We’ve all got issues.  I’m a bit of an over-sharer, if you couldn’t already tell; driven away every boyfriend I’ve ever had, that.”

Louis was stunned.  Niall was sharing the deepest parts of himself – the dark, painful parts that probably caused him the most sleepless nights – and he was discussing it like it was no big deal, like it was normal.  Was it?  Was this how most people talked to each other?

“I –“  Louis was at a loss for words.  “You’re incredible.”  He threw himself into Niall, who ended up pinned against the couch in surprise, laughing.

“Easy there, mate.”

“S-sorry.”  Louis backed up a bit and stared sheepishly at his clasped hands.

“Don’t think I’m the one that needs apologizing to.”  Louis groaned, still not entirely ready to face Liam.  “He wouldn’t have followed you all the way to HQ and yelled at poor, innocent old Jerry about getting you those damn pills if he wasn’t just the least bit bothered about you.”  Niall stood, offering his hand.  “Whaddaya say we get this situation with your bestie sorted out, yeah?  You’ll feel better.”

Louis hesitated, then nodded, allowing Niall to hoist him to his feet. 

He wasn’t sure how Liam would react; they had been friends for years, but Louis always just thought of himself as an annoyance, or maybe a project; something Liam had just learned to live with.  So when they pulled up outside his apartment building, he was almost surprised to see Liam’s SUV parked in the lot.

“Want me to come up with ya?”

Louis glanced at the clock; it was almost midnight, and he’d barely let the lad get any sleep the night before in telling his sob story.  “Nah, you get yourself to bed.”

“You’ll be alright?”

Louis shrugged.  “If not, I can always call and wake you up in the middle of the night, eh pal?”  He was partly joking, partly giving Niall an out – if this didn’t go well, there was a very real possibility that Louis would have another emotional breakdown, and Niall would be the only one left he could turn to.

“Of course.  Anytime.”  He smiled reassuringly and Louis shook his head in disbelief – why was he lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Niall’s generosity?

With every step up to his flat, Louis’ confidence wavered.  What if this was it?  What if he’d been an ass one too many times and Liam had finally had enough?  But then why would he be here?  Did he just want to yell at him?  He would take it; he deserved it.

His hands trembled as he fumbled for his keys before realizing that it was probably unlocked.  The door was only opened a crack before being yanked fully ajar from the inside.  Before Louis could even get a word in, he was being crushed in Liam’s strong embrace.

“Can’t.  Breathe.  Liam.” 

Liam’s grip loosened slightly, but then he pulled away completely and brought a hand to his mouth, alarmed.  “Oh no!  What have I done?  Are you okay?  Did I hurt the baby?”

Liam was firing questions at a mile a minute and Louis almost laughed.  “M’fine, Li.  We both are.”  He patted his stomach affectionately and Liam’s eyes zeroed in on the spot.

“So it’s true?  You are…?”

Louis pursed his lips and nodded.  “It would appear so, yeah.”

There was a beat before Liam could contain his smugness no more.  “I told you!  Didn’t I tell you?”  Louis followed him into the living room, clicking the door softly shut behind them.  “I knew it.  Bloody worthless test got nothin’ on this.”  He tapped his index finger against his forehead.  Louis’ face fell, remembering that night, and suddenly Liam thought he might have gotten the details wrong.  “Is it… it is Harry’s, isn’t it?”

“Of course!” Louis shot back indignantly.  His anger quickly morphed into sorrow, though.  “It is.”  Damnit, how many times could he possibly cry in one weekend?

“Oh, Lou.”  Louis had burrowed himself into the couch and Liam joined him, squishing up against his body even though the couch was big enough for four people.

“How do I tell him?  He- I promised I’d let him go.  He made me promise to let him go.  I can’t just… This is forever, Liam.  He doesn’t want forever with me.”

“Even if that’s true,” and Liam was almost one hundred percent certain that it was not, “this isn’t about that.  Harry is going to be a father – whether you tell him or not.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?  Because it seems like you think if you just stay here locked up in your room and never speak to anyone again that it’ll change the fact that this doesn’t just affect you.”

Louis winced; here was the ire he was expecting.  “You- you can go, Liam.  You don’t have to stay.”

“Fuck, Louis!”  Liam threw up his hands and scooted away from him.  “I am not just going to abandon you because we are in the middle of a… a disagreement.  Get this through your head.  I – and the majority of people, in fact – am not like those assholes you grew up with.”  He knelt down so he could look Louis directly in the eye.  “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Louis wanted to ask why – why he would waste his time on a hopeless case like him – but he expected that his answer would be similar to the one Niall had given.  He stayed because he wanted to; because people needed people, and there was something within Louis that made him worth investing his time, his attention, his… love… in.  So, he asked the only question his incredulous mind could conjure.  “Really?”

“Really.”  Liam smiled, genuinely pleased that Louis finally seemed to be getting it through his thick stubborn skull that he wasn’t doomed to a life of solitude, despite his best efforts.  Louis held out his arms and snuggled into Liam’s embrace once more.  “So, about Harry.”

“Not _now_ ,” Louis grumbled, already half asleep against Liam’s large warm body.

“If you don’t, I just might have to.”

Louis pushed himself up, aghast.  “Don’t you dare!”  Liam gave him a look that said _try me_.  “You have no right.”  He’d thought Liam would put up more of a fight, but he just looked down at his hands sadly.

“You can’t ask me to keep something like this from him.  He’s my friend too, Lou.”

Instead of admitting that Liam was completely right and justifiable in his request, Louis opted for his go-to reaction of irrational anger.  “Yeah, I noticed that when you were having dinner together behind my back.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“Sure you were.”  He got up from the couch then, the blanket still firmly cocooned around him.  “Do whatever you like – _who_ ever you like.  I don’t care, it’s none of my business.  And this,” he gestured in the general vicinity of his midsection, “is none of yours.  So butt out.”  And with that, he spun on his heel, trudged toward his bedroom, and slammed the door.

Liam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Handling Louis’ erratic emotional state was hard enough on a normal day, and his current situation was making it damn near impossible.  But, he meant what he said, and so took his place on the couch, hoping that Louis would have enough sense to come apologize.

When the sun came up and there was no more sign of Louis, Liam had to admit defeat.  It was Monday, and he had to go to work; still, he wouldn’t just leave without saying anything.  He scribbled a quick note and stuck it on the bathroom mirror before heading out the door, glancing one last time toward the back of the flat in the hopes that Louis would emerge, but he knew better than to think it would be that easy.

Louis heard when Liam left; in fact, he’d heard when Liam woke up, heard his steps around the kitchen and the bathroom and he was almost hoping that he’d come in and demand an apology.  When Louis left the relative safety of his bedroom to find his apartment empty, his heart sank.  Perhaps Liam had changed his mind.  His fears were assuaged, however, when he went into the bathroom and found a sticky note waiting for him on the mirror.

_Went to work.  Still love you.  Stop being an ass.  –Li_

Louis actually laughed and stepped into the shower with full confidence that Liam would be back on his doorstep that evening to demand a plan of action.  Which reminded him…

Ugh.  He was going to have to tell Harry.


	5. The Scare

Faced with the impossible task of telling Harry about his impending fatherhood, Louis dragged himself into the shower and readied himself as much as he could.  He could have spent endless amounts of time trying to decide what to wear; what outfit said _I know you broke up with me and never wanted to see me again, but I’m having your baby and now your life is ruined and I’m sorry_?

He decided on a Sex Pistols t-shirt and a pair of joggers.

By the time he left, he was a bundle of nerves.  He was about to head out in the direction of the bakery when he saw Niall leaning up against the side of his building.

“Oi, what’re you doing here?”  Louis trotted over to him, dragging Niall into a hug without even thinking about it.

“You look good.  Guess everything went well with Liam last night?”

Shit.  Niall had been so nice to him, so considerate, and he hadn’t even thought to let him know everything was okay.  “Uh, yeah.  Sort of.  I kind of yelled at him again though.”  Louis rubbed a hand nervously at the back of his neck, but Niall just burst out laughing.

“You do that a lot, eh?”  It was more of a question than a statement, and it was too true for Louis to take offense at.

“I’m pregnant and emotional; give me a break.”  Niall smirked, clearly still amused, but Louis was already back to being anxious.  “I’m- I was… well, I was about to go talk to Harry.”

“Ah.  Well, good luck with that.”  Niall stood around awkwardly for a moment before turning toward the direction he must have parked.

“Wait!”  He stopped.  “Would you- you wanna get breakfast?”  Niall had driven all this way just to check up on Louis; it was the least he could do.  And maybe he was stalling a little bit, but hey, he was still going to be pregnant a few hours from now, yeah?

At the mention of food, Niall perked up.  “Yeah, buddy!”

Niall ordered a huge English breakfast and inhaled the whole thing before Louis was even finished with the triangle of toast he was nibbling on.

“Nervous?” Niall asked, nodding toward the uneaten breakfast.  Louis put down the bit of bread and nodded.  “It’s gonna be fine, Louis.  If this guy was really worth the three years you invested in him, he’ll do the right thing.”

Louis snorted.  If anything, Harry had been the one investing so much in Louis, which is why he was so reluctant to tell him – he would be asking so much more of him, more than Harry might be willing to give… more than Louis probably deserved.

They left cash on the table and Louis paused for a moment outside the restaurant to bask in the sun, relishing the last few moments of clarity before all hell broke loose.  When Niall lingered by his side, Louis insisted that he would be fine and practically pushed Niall back into his car.

It was a short walk over to the bakery, but with every step, Louis’ feet seemed to grow heavier.  When he finally walked through the door, the sound of his own rapidly beating heart drowned out the usual chime that accompanied his entrance.

“Louis – it’s been ages!  How’ve you been?”  The girl behind the counter whose nametag read Anna smiled widely, but professionally; she had started working there shortly after Harry and Louis got together and had always insisted that they were ‘just the cutest thing you ever did see’.

“Great, just… great.  Ehm, can you – is Harry back there?  I kind of, well – can you get him, please?”

Anna shifted uncomfortably.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Styles isn’t here at the moment.”

Huh.  Well, damn.  “When will he be back?”

She shrugged noncommittally.  “I really… well, I don’t know.  I mean, but even if I did, I don’t know if I’m, like, _allowed_ to give out that information.”  Louis frowned and she sighed, looking very put-upon by the whole thing.  “Look, I don’t know what the protocol is here.  He’s my boss and I know he had some meetings and stuff, but you two broke up and, like, I could call him I guess and try to get him back here but –“

Louis held up a hand to cut her off.  “That’s okay, Anna.  Thanks.  I’ll just –“  Louis looked around the relatively empty lobby.  “I’ll just wait over there.”

Just to be polite – and, alright, he missed the hell out of Harry’s baking skills – he ordered a few donuts and some herbal tea and brought them back to his little seat by the window.

The lunchtime rush came and went, and before long the bakery was about to close and Louis had basically cleared out the whole pastry section; it was still several hours before most businesses hung up their hats, but the bakery opened their doors before the sun came up.  The employees had started wiping down the tables and cabinets when Louis finally decided to throw in the towel.

“I’m sorry, Louis.”  Anna put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.  “Do you want to leave a message?”

Louis looked up to the ceiling and blew out a breath.  This wasn’t exactly news you left scrawled on a post-it note.  “No.  No, that’s alright.  I guess, well I guess I’ll try again another time then.  Thanks, love.”

Louis managed to scurry out the door before Anna went in for a hug, but stopped a couple blocks down the street when a strong tightening sensation in his midsection nearly knocked the breath out of him.  He spread a hand against the brick building to his left to brace himself while the other kneaded into the tense muscle in his side.  It passed just as quickly as it had come, though, and he soon straightened himself back up and shook off the ominous feeling in his chest.

He had only taken another few steps when the pain again took him by surprise and he doubled over, again having to reach out to the wall for support.

“Fuck.”  Louis leaned his back fully against the wall and tried to quell the panic.  It could be nothing.  Could just be all the sugar and carbs he ate.  Yeah, it was probably just indigestion.  “Nngh,” he groaned when another one speared his stomach.  “Okay.  Okay.  It’s gonna be okay.”  He was more trying to reassure himself than anything as he slid down the wall and onto his butt.

Louis tried to think it through.  He didn’t think he could walk all the way back to his car – or then drive himself to the hospital even if he could.  Liam was either at home or at the office, and with the end-of-workday traffic it would take him much too long to get there to pick him up.  Niall would have the same problem.  So he called the only other person who might possibly be in the area.

Voicemail.  Damnit.

Louis tried Harry’s phone two more times before he thought that maybe he was just avoiding picking up because it was Louis, but maybe he would listen to a recorded message.

“Hey, H-Harry.”  Louis’ voice sounded awkward and strange – breathy and a little broken in an attempt to cover up the rising hysteria.  “I, um… I’m just a few blocks down from the bakery and –“ he sucked in a breath and let it out with a mumbled curse when his side seized up again.  “Please, Harry.  Come- come get me.  I- it hurts.  It hurts and I’m scared and Liam and Niall are too far away and I don’t know what’s happening.  Please, Harry – I… I need you.”  The words came out in a bumbling mess and he wasn’t even sure they were coherent, but it was all he could manage before the knot in his throat prevented him from saying anything more.

Louis sobbed harder as the minutes ticked by and Harry still hadn’t called him back, succumbing to the uncertainty and still wracked with pain, and finally called for an ambulance to come and get him.

He ended up calling both Niall and Liam on the way to the hospital; both of them promised to be over as soon as they could, but it wouldn’t be soon enough to provide the comfort he so desperately desired in that moment.

The paramedics looked him over and poked and prodded him with various instruments and insisted that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, that his baby was fine, but Louis refused to believe them.  He was just sure that he’d screwed up somehow, that he’d already done something to jeopardize the safety of his child.

Once they got to the emergency room – since he wasn’t considered a “high risk” patient, despite Louis' objections – he was transferred to one of the open beds and left to wait endlessly for one of the harried physicians to pick up his chart.  With every passing second, his anxiety ratcheted up a notch and soon he had made himself so sick with worry that he actually threw up in the trashcan beside his bed. 

He almost cried – well, more than he already was – when a familiar face popped into the room.  It was the doctor that had treated him a few days ago when he’d passed out on his run.

“Mr. Tomlinson.”  It was an admonishment, but more in a motherly tone that somehow still retained its warmth.  “What are you doing back here so soon?”

“M’belly hurts,” he whimpered, curling up on his side.

“Can you describe it?” she asked, flipping through the pages of notes the emergency personnel had left behind.

“I dunno.  Feels… tight?  On and off.  But then sometimes it’s like someone snapped a rubber band against my insides.”  He winced as said metaphorical rubber band once again caused a stinging sensation somewhere near his kidney.

“May I?” Dr. Reid asked, gesturing to his midsection.  Louis nodded and unfurled the arms that he’d instinctively wrapped around himself.  “Can you turn on your back, please?  If it doesn’t cause you too much discomfort.”

Louis was already uncomfortable, so a change in position didn’t make much difference to him.  She pressed her fingertips into the sensitive flesh, smiling apologetically when he hissed in pain.  She then removed the stethoscope from around her neck and pressed it against his chest; she listened for a moment, then moved the instrument down to his stomach, where it had to be repositioned several times before she found what she was looking for.

“Well?” Louis barked harshly, his patience finally wearing out.  “What’s wrong with me?”

Dr. Reid sighed, failing to completely hide her exasperation.  “The paramedics that brought you in were correct – both you and the baby appear perfectly healthy.”  When Louis still looked unconvinced, she continued.  “You really ought to read through those information booklets I sent home with you the other day.  There’s a lot to know, and you’ve got less time than most to learn it.”

“But… but it hurt.  My stomach was hurting.  Something has to be wrong.”

“Your body may not look much different on the outside at the moment, Mr. Tomlinson, but I assure you there are massive changes going on within.  Those changes are bound to cause some discomfort.  I believe you were experiencing some Braxton Hicks contractions.  It is a little early to be feeling them this intensely, but they can be brought on by stress or dehydration or long periods of immobility.”

Louis looked away sheepishly.  He _may_ have been guilty of all those things simultaneously.  “Do they hurt the baby?”

“No.  They are practice contractions that prepare your body – and your baby – for actual labor.”

“I’m going into labor?”  Louis didn’t know much about the whole pregnancy thing yet, but as he gazed down at his tiny tummy, he was sure that the even tinier human being within couldn’t possibly survive on the outside yet.

“If that were the case, you would be surrounded by an absurd number of very pushy, very serious looking obstetricians by now.  Now, you will probably continue to feel these types of contractions throughout the pregnancy, but as long as they don’t start getting stronger or closer together, it’s nothing to worry about.”  Louis was still staring fixedly at his bump.  “Would it help if you heard the heartbeat for yourself?”  At that, Louis’ eyes lit up and she passed the stethoscope over to him, placing the end in the approximate position she’d found the heartbeat before.

Louis closed his eyes and let the soft, swift whooshing of his baby’s heartbeat fill his senses and wash away what was left of the fear and anxiety.  All too soon, though, the sound was gone.  Louis cracked his eyes open to see that sympathetic smile again.

“Thank you.  For that,” Louis said a little too loudly before removing the instrument from his ears.

“Of course.”

Now that he was reassured everything was okay, Louis was a little bit embarrassed.  “Sorry for, you know, freaking out and overreacting.”

“If you are unsure, it is always better to err on the side of caution.  You are already taking good care of your little one.”  Louis nodded, more out of acknowledgement than agreement.  “Now,” the doctor continued, “if those Braxton Hicks come back, I want you to drink a full glass of water and walk around a bit to see if they go away before calling for an emergency vehicle, alright?”  Louis nodded again.  “Alright.  Now, I mean it this time – I don’t wanna see you in here again until you’re fully baked.”

Louis was allowed to occupy his bed until a ride home arrived.  The sun had already gone down and he had just about started to doze off when Liam rushed through the door.

“Louis?  I got here as fast as I could, but- Louis, fuck, are you alright?”

Shit.  Louis was so relieved at the doctor’s words earlier that he’d forgotten that there might be other people worried sick about his condition since he had basically sent up the damn bat signal.  “M’fine, Li.  Really.  False alarm.  My bad,” he said drowsily, pushing himself to a seated position and stretching like a cat in the sun.

“You’re _fine_?”  Liam both wanted to hug and throttle his best friend.

“Yeah, I was having some sort of contractions, but –“

“Contractions?  But it’s way too early for that.”  Now Liam was back to being concerned.

“Not real ones.  Fake ones; don’t remember what –“

“Braxton Hicks?” Liam supplied.  When Louis looked at him dumbfounded, he responded with a massive eye roll.  “ _Some_ body had to read all that information littering your coffee table; I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t going to be you.”

Tears stung at the corners of Louis’ eyes.  Liam had read all those pamphlets.  Of course he had.  Liam liked to be prepared for anything; he could probably deliver Louis’ baby right now if he needed him to.  He… he was really in this.  He was going to be there for Louis and- and _with_ Louis.

Without much warning, Louis flung himself at Liam, practically choking him with how tight his arms were around his neck.  “I was so scared, but you came and everything’s okay and you’re here and you know exactly what Braxton Hicks are because of course you do and I just… I love you, Liam.  Thank you.”

Liam was momentarily at a loss.  Louis wasn’t usually prone to emotional outbursts – the good kind, at least – and so he simply sat there holding back tightly for a long moment.  “I- I love you too.  Of course.”

Louis was discharged shortly after and Liam drove them back to Louis’ flat, rerouting Niall with a call on the way.  It wasn’t until the three of them were all settled in on the couch that Louis finally felt himself relax – like he’d been holding his breath for hours and could finally exhale.

Liam had his arm slung across Louis’ shoulder and Niall had a hand on his knee, both offering whatever physical and emotional comfort they could.  Louis felt grateful, he really did – he loved his friends, but their touch was not the one he longed for, the one he’d been hoping to receive all day.

“Hey, what is it?  The doc said you were alright, yeah?” Niall asked, looking with concern at the moisture falling from Louis’ eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just… it’s stupid.”  Louis waited for them to tell him to put a sock in it, but when they didn’t he continued.  “I called Harry.”

“Oh yeah, you were on your way to tell him about – well, you know – this morning.”

“He was?”  This was news to Liam, and he was a mixture of proud and surprised and the least bit jealous that this new friend knew before he did.

“He wasn’t there.  I waited – pretty much the whole fucking day.”  Louis couldn’t keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone at that, but it quickly turned back to sorrow.  “I was just outside the bakery when I got whammied by the first, th-the –“

“Braxton Hicks,” Liam and Niall both finished for him simultaneously.  They shared a knowing smile and a resigned eye roll that went unnoticed by Louis.

“Yeah, that.  Tried a couple times, but he never answered.  I thought maybe he was ignoring me.”  Liam would have offered a different opinion, but now Louis’ thoughts were coming out of his mouth too fast for anyone else to jump in.  “So I left him a voicemail – sure I sounded like a right trainwreck.  Practically begged him to come get me.  I thought he would.  God, why did I think he would?  He must have listened to it by now – he’s always on his phone.  Rather lose an arm than lose that thing.  So he must have it; he must have listened to it and I just… I thought he would come.”

Liam was about to counter that with a rational argument that probably wouldn’t have worked when Niall jumped in with his usual easygoing humor.  “What, we aren’t enough for you anymore?  Are you breaking up with us?  Don’t tell me mum – I think she likes you more than she likes me.  Theo certainly does,” he added bitterly, though without malice.

“You’ve met his mum?” 

Liam had directed the question at Louis, but Niall answered.  “And nephew – Theo.  And his dad, my brother.  And my dad.  All the Horans, really.” 

Liam frowned; he should be happy that Louis was making new friends, but it had taken him so long to get close to Louis.  Again, he found himself the least bit jealous that this new man had so quickly become such a big part of his best friend’s life.

“Couldn’t stop mopin’ about you, though.  Damn near couldn’t enjoy my dessert with all that whining about ‘oh, how’s Liam going to react’ or ‘oh, I can’t do this alone’ or ‘oh, I’m just so shit at golf’.”

This must have been an inside joke between the two of them because Louis cracked a grin and smacked Niall in the face with a throw pillow.  “Come at me with a football and say that, fucker.”

Alright, Liam couldn’t be mad at this.  A minute ago, Louis had been on the verge of shutting down, and now he was joking and laughing and not staring at the ceiling like it foretold the apocalypse.  No, this was good.  And there definitely was something about Niall’s personality that was infectious, that drew you in like a moth to the flame.  Liam realized he’d been staring a little too long when he snapped out of it and found two pairs of eyes locked on him.  Niall was jovial, if a bit confused, and Louis… well, Louis looked like the cat who’d just caught the canary.

“How about I see about getting some food together?” Louis asked as Liam turned an amusing shade of red, sparing him the embarrassment of answering for his actions.

“Yes, please!”  Niall was always up for a meal.

Liam eyed Louis’ trek to the kitchen with skepticism.  “You’re cooking?  You set the kitchen on fire making oatmeal once.”

Niall fell over with laughter, which made Liam’s pleased grin even wider than usual, so Louis let him off easy for that one.  “Thank you for the reminder, jackass, but I was actually thinking more of ordering in.”

“Nando’s?” Niall suggested, suddenly serious and pleading, like a puppy begging for a treat.

Louis rummaged around in a drawer until he found the menu – for him and Liam mostly, seeing as how Niall seemed to have the thing memorized – and ordered delivery.  They put on a movie, and about 10 minutes later a knock at the door came. 

“That was quick,” Louis said, the other boys nodding in agreement.  Another knock sounded, more insistent this time, and they looked between each other, none of them moving.

“It is your house, mate,” Niall finally urged.

Louis let out a long-suffering sigh and hoisted himself to his feet.  “Sure, make the pregnant one get up and get the door,” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough that Niall definitely heard him.  “Coming!” he called after another vigorous knock came from the hallway.  “Hey, how much –“  Louis stopped midsentence when he looked up through the half-open door to find a wide-eyed Harry staring back at him.

Shit.


	6. The Ultimatum

As soon as the door was open, Harry rushed forward and cupped his hands around Louis’ face, scanning his body for any signs of injury and searching his eyes for distress.  “God, Lou – are you okay?  Did you- are you hurt?  What the hell happened?”

Louis recoiled from his unexpected touch and he could have sworn he saw hurt flash across Harry’s face.  “M’fine.”  He said, tugging nervously at the bottom of his oversized sweatshirt, though his secret was easily hidden beneath its folds.

“You- you’re...”  Louis stepped further back and allowed Harry to enter his apartment, where he promptly began pacing.  “You scared the shit out of me.  Fuck.  You’re fine?”  Louis nodded and Harry stopped moving, bending back and running a hand down his face.  “Then what the hell?  What was with that voicemail you left me?”  He was angry, and neither of them were quite sure why.

Now the memories of the day came flooding back – the waiting, the indignation, the fear.  “I went to the bakery this morning.  There were some things I needed to talk to you about,” Louis said cryptically.  “But you weren’t there.  All.  Fucking.  Day.”

“So, what, you made up some story about being injured to get me here?”  Harry didn’t honestly think Louis would do that, but god he had been scared out of his mind since the second he’d heard that message and it was causing him to lash out at the person that least deserved it.

Louis took a step back – how could Harry possibly accuse him of something like that?  “No.  I- no.”  What more could he say?

“He was in the hospital, jackass!” Niall added in from the couch.

It was only then that Harry noticed they had an audience.  He recognized Liam, of course, but there was also someone new; he was attractive, in a boyish kind of way, and Irish from the sound of it.  The fact that there was a new man in Louis’ life pained him, but that was overshadowed by the discovery that Louis was in the _hospital_.  He was in the hospital and Harry had no idea.

“Had to call an ambulance.” _…when you didn’t pick up_.  Though it went unsaid, they both understood.  “M’fine though.  Really.  Just an… overreaction.  You know how I tend toward the dramatic.”  And just like that, Louis was back to self-deprecating as a form of minimizing the seriousness of his problems.

Harry was still reeling from the fact that Louis was in the hospital; the idea that he didn’t know, that something could have been wrong and maybe Louis could have… well, it made him sick.  “You could have at least called back to let me know you were, you know, still alive,” he managed through gritted teeth. 

“Well you could have answered your damn phone when I called the first time!”  Louis clapped a hand over his mouth; he hadn’t meant to snap at Harry, but his mere presence sent Louis’ emotions into overdrive.  Plus, he had trouble controlling his tongue on a good day. 

Harry could feel the prying eyes observing and judging their exchange from the couch and it was putting him on edge.  “Louis, can we maybe—can we talk in private?” 

“Um.”  Louis still wasn’t sure he was ready to talk, but nodded anyway.  “Sure.  I guess.”  He followed Harry’s lead into the bedroom and shut the door behind them. 

And then it was suddenly just the two of them – him and Harry alone in his bedroom.  And it looked so much like it used to, but it felt completely different now because everything _was_ completely different and Louis just couldn’t find the right words to speak.

Harry stood with his back to Louis and took a few deep breaths.  When he turned back around, the tension stiffening his shoulders had eased and his expression was considerably softened.  “You’re really okay?”  Louis nodded, but his face was still troubled and Harry wasn’t convinced.  “You’re not hurt?  Nothing’s wrong?” he asked again for confirmation.

Louis cleared his throat and looked away from Harry’s scrutinizing gaze.  “I, uh… yeah.  Yeah, I’m okay.”  An awkward silence fell, neither really knowing where to go from there.  “Where were you today?” Louis finally asked, unable to bear the tension any longer.  He tried to make the question as unaccusatory as he could, but the hurt was still evident in his voice.

“Phone was off.  I- I had meetings.”

Louis glanced at the clock; it was pretty late for a business engagement.  “You were in a meeting until nine o’clock at night?” 

At this, a slight blush started to color Harry’s cheeks.  “Meetings were earlier.  After that I… must have forgotten to turn it back on.”  The redness was now extending in splotchy patches down his neck, which only happened when Harry was nervous or embarrassed, and—

Oh.

“You were on a date.”  It wasn’t a question; it was the only logical explanation.  He knew Harry, knew that it was his custom to turn his phone off while on a date to give the other party his full and undivided attention.  Louis actually kind of loved that about Harry… until today, when he was the one being ignored on the other end.  “You didn’t have to come if you were busy.”

“Christ, Louis, you were in the _hospital_!”  Of course he came!  He closed the distance between them and leaned down to press his forehead to Louis’ delicately, as if afraid he might break.  “I hate that it took you being in the hospital for you to call me.”  He placed one hand in the crook of Louis’ neck and brushed his thumb across his collarbone.  “I hate that we don’t talk.”  He pulled back and Louis could see the anguish written in the wrinkles of his brow.  “I hate that I never see you.”

And this… was what Louis had been afraid of.  Harry had been on a date.  He was trying to move on and Louis had gone and sucked him back into his crazy, messy life again.  “Harry –“

“No.”  He could hear the pleading in Louis’ voice and he was just not ready to accept his rejection.  “No.  You were a big part of my life, for a long time.  You were more than just my boyfriend; you were my best friend.  And I miss you.  You have no idea how much I miss you, Lou.”

Louis looked away.  He was saying all the right things; so why did it feel like Louis was about to get his heart broken all over again?  “What do you want me to say?” he asked in exasperation.

“I want you to say that you’ll let me back in!  I want to be part of your life.  I want to be able to see you and talk to you because I love you and you’re still so important to me.  I want… I want my friend back.”

It took a moment for Louis to process this request; once he had, it pissed him the hell off.  “Well too damn bad!”  His eyes found Harry’s again and there was fire behind them.  “You can’t just break up with me and then expect to be all buddy-buddy afterward.  That’s bullshit.  It’s not fair and it’s bullshit.”  Harry at least had the decency to look contrite.  “You don’t get to keep one foot in the door just because you fucking _miss_ me.”

Harry took his bottom lip between his teeth.  “I know.  I know I don’t.  I- I’m sorry.”  Sorry for so many things.  For not being at the bakery that day.  For not being there when Louis needed him.  For not being able to get over him and for ever hurting him in the first place.  “I had no right to ask that of you.”

Louis had to stop himself from grimacing.  The funny thing was, Harry actually did have that right – Louis was carrying the man’s child for god’s sake – he just didn’t know it.  He sighed.  “And I had no right to call you this afternoon and expect you to drop everything for me.”

“Lou—“ 

Louis held up a hand to silence him.  “I know.  Extenuating circumstances.  But it won’t be the last time.  I’m sure,” he added when Harry’s eyes flashed with concern at the definitiveness of that statement.   “I get that you want to stay in touch.  But… I can’t do it like that.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be confused.  “I don’t –“

“I can’t do this weird, ambiguous, ‘let’s not put a label on it’ relationship shit,” Louis said, interrupting.  “It’s gotta be all or nothing.”  There were already too many unknowns and uncertainties in his life at the moment.  He needed something stable, something constant and unwavering.

 “All of what, exactly?”  Harry took a step forward, but Louis mirrored it with a step back; he was acting like a cornered animal and Harry was again plagued with guilt that Louis felt the need to guard and protect himself against him.

Louis swallowed back the tears as he attempted to explain the intricacies of his confused and crippled heart.  “I can’t just… be… your _friend_.  I wouldn’t be good at it.”  He wouldn’t be able to bear sitting next to Harry watching a movie and not be able to lean over and kiss him.  To walk side by side and not be able to grab his hand or run his fingers through his hair.  To listen to him talk about his amazing life and other relationships and pretend he wouldn’t rather have a wooden stake shoved through his ears.  “I love you too much for that.”

The brokenness in Louis’ voice broke something in Harry too.  “Then what?”  What would he have to do to keep Louis in his life?

Louis took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders.  “I want to get back together.”  It was unfair, asking this of Harry before he knew about the pregnancy.  Louis knew it was.  But once he did, they would forever be in each other’s lives, their futures irrevocably intertwined whether they were in a relationship or not.  And with the baby, Louis still had options; but with Harry… well, the only way he knew how to be with him was as two halves of a whole.  If he was with Harry, he was all in with him; if Harry couldn’t do the same, severing ties would be painful, but living like that – constantly being around each other but never truly _with_ each other – Louis would never feel complete again. 

“Louis –“

“I want to be able to call you and know you’ll answer.  I want to be able to see you whenever I want to – whenever I need to.  I want to start building a life together.”  He resisted the urged to place a hand on his tummy; he just couldn’t bring himself to tell him about the baby until he was sure that it wouldn’t be born into a broken family.  If Louis couldn’t at least provide his child with parents that were in a happy, healthy, committed relationship… well, then he would just have to find someone who could.  He owed it at least that much.

“Lou.”  It was a broken whisper, and Harry didn’t know what else to say.  Part of him – a not insignificant part – wanted desperately to say yes.  But the issues that had broken them apart had not gone away and he still thought they needed some separation in order to work them out.  “I mean, maybe we could work on it.  Take it slow.  Maybe in a few months –“

“No.”  Louis shook his head vehemently; he didn’t have a few months.  “It’s now or never, Harry.  You can take me, all of me, as I am, or –“

“Or what?”

Louis hesitated for a beat.  “Or you can get out.”  He cleared his suddenly constricted throat, but his vision was still starting to blur from unshed tears.  “Your choice.”

Harry was torn.  He wanted everything with Louis – of course he did.  But he wasn’t sure he could make any promises with the certainty that Louis was demanding.  “Please don’t ask me to do this.”

Louis crossed his arms over his chest.  “You can’t have it both ways.”  Well, Louis couldn’t have it both ways.  “If you want to be with me, then _be_ with me.  If not… well then it’s probably better to just make a clean break.”  Harry drew his eyebrows together and it was like an actual knife in his chest for Louis just to say the words.  “No contact.”

Harry stood for a moment in quiet contemplation.  “Is that really what you want?”

No.  “Yes.”

He watched as Louis fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for a response.  Even now, Harry was already causing him pain; he had hurt him so badly the first time –Harry knew he had – and he would never forgive himself if he had to do it again.  So, he resolved to make it easier for Louis – to spare him the potential suffering.  Even if it meant enduring the agony of permanently closing off that door in his own heart.

There were so many things Harry wanted to say in that moment, but none would provide either of them any comfort.  He leaned in and for a moment, just a moment, Louis believed everything was going to work out.  But then Harry placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, his lips lingering against his mess of hair as he whispered, “I’m sorry.  Take care, Louis.”

And then he was gone. 

And Louis had never felt more alone.

His feet carried him into the kitchen, where Liam and Niall were on their feet and wearing matching masks of confusion.  Louis should have been crying by now – felt the need built up in his aching eyes and pounding head – but couldn’t find the strength.  He was too tired of feeling everything too deeply.

“What happened?” Niall asked, trying to reconcile Harry’s distraught departure and Louis’ shell-shocked expression.

“What did he say?” Liam prompted when Louis remained silent.

“I- he… he left.  I told him- I gave him a choice.  He could have all of me or none of me.  And he- he –“

“And he left,” Niall finished for him.

“He chose to walk out on you and his own _child_?”  If Liam had not seen Harry leave with his own two eyes, he would not have believed it.  Louis nodded; technically it was true – even if it was also technically true that Harry hadn’t known he was walking out on his child – and Louis enjoyed the security of being wrapped in Liam’s strong and sympathetic embrace. 

“That bastard,” Niall added, joining Liam in sandwiching Louis in a hug from the other side.

“I can’t believe he would do that.”  Liam shook his head; to think he’d been helping Harry, even comforting him through the breakup.  Well, that was sure as hell over.  “I swear, Lou, I’ll never speak to him again.”

Louis nodded again.  Of course he felt guilty.  But… surely Harry had other friends.  And Louis needed Liam, now more than ever; if he found out that Louis still hadn’t told Harry about the baby, he was sure he’d lose him.  So if Liam wanted to assume that Harry knew… well, it would just be easier for everyone involved.  Less messy.  Especially since–

 “I can’t keep it.”

“What?” Niall and Liam both asked with simultaneous incredulity.

Louis pushed his way out of their tangle of arms and leaned against the countertop.  “A baby.  I can’t have a baby.  Not like this.”  He may have been panicking just a little in the face of his sudden solitude, but in that moment he was certain.

“Hey, you can do this.  I meant it when I said you’re not alone.”  Niall tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Louis shrugged it off.

“I promise we’re going to be here for you,” Liam added.

Louis laughed mirthlessly.  “Yeah, for how long?”

“Louis, I mean it –“

“No, Liam, seriously.  I know you mean it.  I know you mean it now.  But now you’re young and single and don’t have a care in the world.  What happens when you meet someone?  When you fall in love and get married because I know you will because you’re too damn amazing not to, and then you’ll get a dog and a big house and have 12 kids because that’s what you’ve always wanted.”  Louis turned to look at him then.  “Eventually you are going to have your own life – you too, Niall.  And then it will just be me, and I’ll have to live with the choices I’ve made.”

“You don’t have to decide this tonight.  Just… at least sleep on it, yeah?”  Niall was pretty sure Louis’ fear was clouding his judgment, but he couldn’t very well force him into anything.

Louis swallowed thickly, continuing to provide justifications that no one had asked for.  “Newborns get adopted easy.  They’re shiny and new and this one won’t even come with any baggage.”

Liam was silent for a long moment, debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.  He eventually decided that Louis’ potential regret at making a rash, emotional decision was worse than possibly pushing him away.  “You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?  It’s the same thing you always do.  The situation is out of your control, so you’re running away instead of trying to deal with the problem.”

“I am dealing with it, Liam, can’t you see that?  This is the only way.  Can’t you see that I’m not happy?  I’m not sure I ever really was.  When I was a kid, every house I was bounced around in didn’t want me there; they resented me simply for my presence.  And I am messed up and broken and I will not, _not_ condemn this child to the same fate.”

Louis and Liam were staring each other down when Niall finally piped up.  “Not every house.”

“What?”

“You said every house you grew up in didn’t want you.  But that’s not true, is it?”  Louis cocked his head in confusion.  “Yer mum – Johannah, I think you said her name was.  You lived with her for a while; didn’t hate it, sounded like.”  Niall looked back up as Louis gaped at him.  “And she was a single mum too, yeah?”

Liam could kiss Niall right now.  Somehow he’d found the one thing that could possibly get through to Louis.  He could see it on Louis’ face – the play of emotions flickering rapidly between love and grief and doubt.  The idea may have even fully pierced through his fear if a loud knock at the door hadn’t interrupted and caused them all to jump.

“Delivery!” a voice called from the hallway.

“Fuck,” Liam cursed, quickly grabbing the cash from the counter and practically throwing it at the Nando’s delivery guy while also grabbing the large bags of food he was carrying.  In the few seconds it took him to return, Louis had already bolted to his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Niall looked torn as he glanced between the hot bags of food and Louis’ firmly closed door.  But Liam knew they wouldn’t see Louis for the rest of the night, and refused to let Niall to feel like a dick for wanting to chow down instead.  “Might as well not let this food go to waste.”

Louis spent a long time staring at the one picture he had of his mom – the one he kept by the side of his bed where she still looked healthy and strong and ready to take on the world.  “What do I do?” he asked, stroking his fingers along the glass that covered her face.

Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep, but was awakened at just after midnight by an incoming text.

_You forgot to wish me a happy birthday, dickhead._

It was from his sister, Lottie, and shit her birthday had been yesterday.  Not in all her 24 years had he missed celebrating the birth of the one that had made him a big brother.  He should call her.  He needed to call her, but he may very well start sobbing as soon as she answered the phone.

_You’re right, I am a dickhead.  You deserve the happiest of birthdays, Lots._

There.  That sounded like him, yeah?  Maybe a little sappier, but hey, maybe she would just think he’s tired and let it go.  That thought was quickly disregarded when his phone began to buzz; she was calling him.  He let it go to voicemail and she tried again; again he didn’t answer.

_Pick up the phone, damnit!_ When Louis still didn’t respond, she followed up with another message.  _You’re obviously awake and you owe me a birthday present.  I’m calling it in – one call, right now._

Louis sighed and tried to clear his head of the crying-induced congestion.  His eyes were puffy and sore as he tried to rub the sleep from them, but he figured he was as presentable as he was going to get.  This time Louis initiated the call and Lottie picked up on the second ring.

“Louiiiiiiiis!” she sang, obviously a little tipsy.

“Hey, Lots.  Sounds like you’re having a good time.”  Louis had thought he had done a pretty good job at hiding his emotion, but realized he failed when his sister immediately sobered up.

“What’s wrong, Lou?”

Louis groaned; he was so not prepared to have this conversation.  “Nothing – m’tired.”  It wasn’t a complete lie; he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Don’t lie to me; it’s my birthday.  You’re not allowed to lie to me on my birthday.”

“First of all, as you so delicately pointed out, it is no longer your birthday.  And second of all, I’m pretty sure that that’s never been a rule.”

“So you were lying then?”

“Lottie, stop.  Go back to stealing the spotlight of whatever party you’re crashing and let me go back to sleep.”

There was a long pause where it sounded like Lottie was walking; the noise dulled until there was silence, then a loud squeak as she flopped onto a piece of leather furniture.  “I’m not hanging up until you tell me what’s going on.”

She could be more stubborn than even Louis.  He could just hang up, but part of him didn’t want to.  He needed someone to help him work through this; someone who understood him and loved him and would just listen without judgment and without trying to change his opinion.  He needed family.

“I- I-“  God, where did he even begin?

“What is it?  Are you okay?  Is it Harry?”  She was trying to coax some sort of information out of him, but at the mention of Harry’s name he simply broke down into incoherent sobs.  “God, Lou, what?  What happened?”  She had never heard her big brother cry like this before; she wasn’t naïve enough to think that he never had, but he had always put on a mask of bravery for her and their siblings.  Maybe that mask had finally started to crack.

“Lottie, I need to get out of here.  There’s too much- I can’t…”  Louis took a calming breath.  “Would you mind if I came and stayed with you for a while?”

Lottie was taken aback; her brother never stayed more than a night or two.  Whatever it was must be really bad.  “Of- of course.  As long as you like.  Of course.”

“Could I… I mean, can I come, ehm, like now?”  The thought of sneaking out and leaving Niall and Liam behind seemed pretty shitty, but the thought of facing them with the current state of his emotions was even worse.

“Like right now?”  Louis made a noise of confirmation.  “Uh, sure.  No, yeah, sure, that could work.”

Louis shook his head; he sounded so needy.  “Sorry, Lots.  You’re out having a good time.  Never mind.  I’ll leave tomorrow.”  He was losing his nerve and suddenly had the urge to back out completely; seeing her would mean telling everything that had happened between him and Harry.  “You know what, I’m fine.  I don’t need to come at all.  Go take a shot and forget I ever brought it up.”

Lottie huffed angrily.  “No fucking way!  You get your ass up here right now, Louis Tomlinson, or I swear to god I will track you down and drag you here myself and I know you don’t like it rough so don’t test me!”

His only thought was… “How do you know I don’t like it rough?”

She growled in frustration.  “Grab your keys.  Get in your car.  Drive these windy-ass roads into the middle of nowhere.  And come see your favorite fucking sister!”  It would have sounded demanding coming from anyone else, but Lottie was so sweet she could never be truly menacing.  “Now, please.”  And with that, she hung up the phone and waited for her brother to obey.

It was well into the night, and Liam and Niall were passed out on the couch, cuddling.  Big, meaty Liam was the little spoon to Niall’s sprawling form, and Louis would have snapped a picture to mock them endlessly with later, but honestly it just made him sad.  Perhaps they would both be moving on with their own lives even sooner than Louis had imagined.

Louis at least left a note to the occupants of his house so they wouldn’t worry, though he didn’t mention where he was going or for how long.  Just that he needed some time to sort things out.  He stuffed a few clothes, his work laptop, and the bottle of prenatal vitamins into a messenger bag and snuck out the front door as quietly as he could. 

By the time the sun started lightening the sky, Louis had arrived on his sister’s doorstep.


	7. The Decision

Immediately after hanging up with Louis, Lottie had raced home to get her house – and herself – ready for company.  She ran the dishwasher and put new sheets on the bed in the guest room and showered so she didn’t smell of smoke and tequila.  Based on the way Louis sounded on the phone, she expected it to be a sweat pants and chocolate kind of day, and so wasn’t bothered by her own disheveled appearance when he pulled to a stop in her driveway.  It was still a little chilly in the predawn air, but that didn’t stop Lottie from running out and throwing her arms around her brother as soon as he was out of the car.

It was as she clung to him tightly that she felt it – a small swell between his hips that had never before been present on his slender frame.  “Oh!”  She pulled back and looked back and forth between Louis’ face and the bump that was invisible beneath the baggy material of his hoodie.  She reached out and rested her hand against his protruding stomach and found it to be firm, solid.  “Oh, Louis –“

“Oh _me_?  Oh _you_!  What is this now?”  He took the hand she had on him and brought it to eye level.  There was a single diamond band on her ring finger.  “Are you engaged, Lots?”

Lottie snatched her hand away sheepishly.  She hadn’t told anyone in their family that she was seeing anyone – much less that he had proposed… and she had said yes.  Plus, this visit was so not about her and he was not changing the subject that easily.

“Yes.  But we are not here to talk about me, and I’m pretty sure you have some news of your own to share.”  She had been almost positive that Louis was such a mess because he and Harry had broken up.  The pregnancy threw her for a loop, but it made sense; Louis had had such a broken childhood, so of course he’d be freaking out about this.  “Now I know this is big, but are you sure you don’t want to call Harry?  He’s probably worried sick about you by now.”  Louis’ face fell and- shit.  Maybe she’d had it right in the first place.  “Hey, come inside.  Tell me what happened.”

So, for the second time in as many days, Louis found himself pouring his guts out to someone he was sure would never want to listen to him blabber on and on about his problems.  But she listened.  She was quiet, but attentive; appropriately sympathetic and outraged at the right times.  And when he finally got to the point in the story that drove him there, he had to pause several times to gather himself before he could get out the words.

“Harry’s gone, Lottie.  I’m going to have a baby in a few months and he’s _gone_.  And Liam and Niall both think I’m wrong or confused but I- I’m just so messed up.”  Lottie’s silence continued, allowing Louis to build up the courage to say his next words.  “I want… I want to give it up.  I want to give this baby a family – a whole family that knows what it’s doing and is totally prepared and has loved it and wanted it since the day it came into their lives.”

He waited for her rebuke, but none came.  She simply pulled at his elbow until he slid to a horizontal position, his head resting in her lap.  Louis drew his hands from the bottom of his bump to the top, over and over again until his skin was practically numb from the repetition, while Lottie carded her fingers through his hair and gently massaged designs into his scalp.  He was practically asleep when she finally responded to all this.

“Can I ask you something without you getting offended?”

“Ehm… sure.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Really?  Weren’t you listening?”  Maybe he was a little offended.  “I wasn’t enough for Harry – a fully capable, grown adult; how could I possibly be enough for a child that’s entirely helpless and dependent solely on one totally fucked up parent?”

Lottie again fell silent; when she spoke again, her words were soft, somber.  “Do you remember that one house we stayed at?  When you were around 16?”

“I try not to.”  But how could he forget?  It was at that house that his life changed forever.  “What about it?”

Lottie’s breathing quickened and Louis squeezed her hand.  She gave him a small, grateful smile.  “That day… he was angry at me.  I don’t even remember now what it was that I did.  But I remember the belt.  I remember the sound it made as it snapped against my skin again and again and again.  I remember trying to be strong – to endure it in silence like you always did.  But then he missed.”  She flinched, as if she could still feel the sting of it.  “Or maybe he didn’t; maybe he did it on purpose.”  She brushed her fingertips over the faded scar on her chest.  “But when that buckle tore into me… I screamed.  I couldn’t help it.”

Louis sat up and stared into her downcast eyes.  “Lottie, it wasn’t your fault.”

She shook her head, causing a tear to escape down her cheek.  “No.  No, I know that now.  But I felt guilty about it for the longest time.  I thought if only I had been stronger; if only I’d kept quiet.  But I didn’t.  And then –“  She sniffed, her eyebrows drawing together in sorrow and shame.

Louis remembered it well.  Her cry had carried all the way outside to Louis’ ears and suddenly he was running.  He was so angry, he couldn’t stop himself from landing a blow to that monster’s drunk ugly mug.  There was a moment of shock, and then came the worst beating that Louis had ever endured.  It left him in the hospital with bruised ribs, a black eye, and a shattered knee.  His body was never quite the same after that, and his football career was over before it had even begun.

“Lottie, please don’t blame yourself for what happened.  It all worked out in the end, yeah?”  He pulled her face up to look at him.  “If I had it all to do again, I would do exactly the same thing.”

“Exactly!  Exactly, Lou.”  She shifted her body and leaned in closer.  “You gave up everything to protect me, to keep me safe and happy and loved even when I had no reason to feel that way.”  Louis sighed in anticipation of where this was going, but her next words surprised him.  “I’m not saying you have to keep the baby.  I’m not.  I’m just saying.  If you’re going to do this… do it for the right reasons.”  Now it was Louis’ turn to look away.  “And don’t for one second think that who you are, right now, all by yourself – the same smart, brave, loving boy you’ve always been – is not enough for this child.”  She kissed him on the cheek and wrapped him in a hug.

Louis let his sister’s comforting and encouraging words wash over him, desperate to allow them to penetrate the fortress he'd built around his heart.  He still didn’t know what the right thing was, but Lottie had given him the freedom to decide for himself.  He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a relieved sigh.  “I can’t thank you enough for this.  You’re amazing.  How did you get to be so amazing?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  “I had a good teacher.”  When Louis met her gaze, he expected to find sarcasm; when he only found sincerity, his eyes began to swim.  “And I love you no matter what.  Whatever you decide, I got your back.”

And with that, she practically pulled him up the stairs and to the spare bedroom.  Louis flopped down, exhausted both from the lack of sleep and the emotionally draining morning, and was out almost as soon as his head found the pillow.  Lottie kissed him on the nose, then gave his bump an affectionate pat before pulling the quilt over his still form.

Louis spent the next few days with his phone blissfully off and feeling lighter than he had in a while.  Lottie never brought up the baby, and neither did he; they simply chatted and ate and watched movies and for a short while he could almost forget that he had to make a decision that would determine the course of his life.

Almost.

When Lottie’s fiancé, Don – whose name was Don anyway – came back from his business trip, any comfort he’d found in their duo dynamic was disrupted.  The guy was nice enough, and treated his sister like she deserved, like she was royalty.  Still, whenever he was around, when he saw them all close and happy and in love together, Louis could only feel the emptiness in his own heart.

Early one morning, about a week into Louis’ stay and after three days of constant engaged sappiness, he decided that it was time to get out of the house.

After he was done lacing up his trainers, Lottie pulled him to the side.  “Is everything alright?  You seem… well, you’re a bit quieter.  Than you were.  Before.”

“M’fine, really.  Just need some air.”

Lottie cast a guilty look over at her fiancé, who was happily flipping an omelet in the kitchen – thank god she’d found herself someone who could cook.  “Is it Don?  Do you not like him?”

Louis would have rolled his eyes, but she looked so concerned and for some reason his opinion seemed to actually matter to her.  “I don’t _know_ him, Lots.”  She bit her lip, still uncertain.  “Do you love him?”  She nodded.  “Does he make you happy?”  Another nod.  “Then that’s all that matters.  I’ll be back in a bit.”  He kissed her on the cheek and trotted out the door before she could make any further protest.

Growing up, he had always been stuffed into tiny rooms and was rarely allowed to leave the house; being outdoors made him feel free, even if he still felt like a prisoner inside.  Lottie lived in a much smaller town than Louis was used to; there were a lot of locally owned shops all spread out and peppered amongst the neighborhoods.  So everything was a little bit farther apart, but Louis didn’t mind.

He jogged a little bit – leisurely, careful not to land himself back in the hospital.  When he got tired, much faster than he used to, he slowed to a walk and turned into a large park.  He had intended to find a bench and sit down for a while, but there was a football field in the distance and he just couldn’t resist.

Louis toed the chalked corner of the field and admired its flat, clean expanse.  It had been a long time since he’d been to one other than the large, perfectly manicured stadium back in the city, but this was why he liked the game – all you really needed was a ball and your own two feet. 

There were two sets of bleachers on either side of center field.  The long metal bench was not the most comfortable seat in the world, but it was as good a place as any to watch as kids on swings and men on bikes and even squirrels in trees went about living their own individual lives.  He was sure they had their own problems, but right now, here, they were all just enjoying the cool breeze and warm sun.

He had been staring for far too long at an old lady tossing bread to the ducks – though why there were ducks, he didn’t know; there was no water anywhere to be found – when a tiny, frustrated voice reached his ears from downfield.

“What’s the point, mummy?  We’re not going to win – I can’t even kick the ball straight!”  A little girl, who must have only been seven or eight, crossed her arms and kicked angrily at the ball at her feet.  As if to prove her point, it somehow got caught on her heel and ended up going the exact opposite direction from which she intended.

“I’m sorry, baby.  I know your dad was supposed to teach you today and I’m a poor substitute.”  The woman who must be the girl’s mother put on an overly apologetic tone, but the hyperbole was lost on such young ears and instantly the girl was contrite.

“It’s okay.  You’re doing your best.”

The mother’s mouth quirked up in one corner.  “Hey, isn’t that my line?”

The girl looked at her mother seriously and patted her elbow.  “You looked like you needed it more.”

Louis watched the girl practice a little while longer before he absolutely could not stand the travesty any longer.  He got up, surprised at how stiff he’d gotten in the short amount of time he was seated, and tentatively approached the inept mother/daughter duo.

“Ehm, sorry, don’t mean to interrupt,” he said when he was a few feet away.  “But I couldn’t help but notice your girl there was having a bit of trouble handling her football.”

“See?  _Every_ one can tell how horrible I am!” the girl whined after another errant kick.

“You’re not bad, love, you’re just in your head too much – it’s messin’ up your technique.”  He could see it on her face, the way she scrunched up her eyes and took the same number of steps every time.  But good footballers were flexible, fluid; they needed to play to their own strengths.

“Can you help?”  When she asked and he didn’t answer, she turned to her mother.  “Can he help?”

The mother bit her lip in indecision, but eventually conceded.  “If you wouldn’t mind –”

“Louis,” he supplied, reaching out his hand.

“Alice.  And thank you.  My husband is the athlete in the family; I tried kicking the ball to her a couple times, but I’m afraid she may have inherited her poor coordination from me.”

Louis spent most of the afternoon teaching the little girl – Lucy – the basics.  By the time she was done running the drills he’d showed her, she could actually consistently get the ball into the net.  He and her mother watched proudly as she set up and executed the drill again and again and again.

“You’re good,” she observed.

Louis shrugged.  “Kickin’ a football is one of my very few skills.”

“I meant with her.  She can be a little short-tempered at times, stubborn even.   But you’re a good teacher.”  Louis placed an unconscious hand on his belly, playing those words over in his mind and trying to ignore the effect they had on his heart.  He quickly pulled it away and tugged his sweatshirt back to its loose position when he saw Alice’s knowing smile.  “Is this your first?”  Louis nodded.  “Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Louis decided this was an innocent enough question and shook his head.  “Bit of a surprise, this.”

“Ah.  Yeah, having Lucy wasn’t exactly part of my graduation plan either.”  Louis shifted, unsure whether he could or should ask anything more about the situation; he didn’t have to decide, though, as she offered up the information freely.  “Her father left us behind when he took off for university, the twat.”  Louis smiled; he rather liked Alice.  “But it all worked out for the best, I suppose.”

“Did you ever regret it?”  Louis hadn’t meant to actually ask this question aloud, but she didn’t seem offended.

Alice was thoughtful for a moment.  “I don’t know if regret is the right word,” she answered honestly.  “It was hard – still is – and exhausting, and there’s just so much… responsibility.  But I did my best with what I had and that was enough for us.  And then I met my husband Hank and he loves her so much and I can’t imagine my life any other way now.”

Now it was Louis’ turn to be thoughtful.  After Lottie’s plea, he was trying to keep an open mind.  Maybe he could do this.  He may not know how to raise a child, but who the hell did?  He could start by doing the exact opposite of however he was raised.  And he was older than Alice had been – he had a good, steady job and family and friends to support him.  The tiniest ray of hope was beginning to blossom in his heart as Lucy grabbed his hand and dragged him back onto the field to continue her lesson.

“Now, Lucy, you are small and they won’t see you as a threat.”  She pouted, but he wasn’t finished with his pep talk.  “Don’t worry, that gives you an advantage – they won’t see you coming.  See, you don’t have to be better than any of them… so long as you’re faster.”

She grinned conspiratorially up at him.  “Wicked.”

Louis thought for a moment.  “Of course, it is always good to have one or two tricks up your sleeve.”  He turned around to face her mum.  “Whaddaya say, mum – do we have time to get in one more move before dinner?”

Alice looked down at her watch; they really should be getting back, but Lucy was having so much fun and, well, she was honestly getting so much better.  Having to build her back up after every loss was wearing on her; maybe, just maybe they could win this next one.  “Alright, one more.  But then I’m calling it.”

When Louis got home, he was more excited than he had been in a long time.  He talked endlessly to Lottie and Don about the football knowledge he’d imparted on the next generation, complaining about how current techniques and politics were killing the spirit and fun of the game, and gushed about how much Lucy had improved in the few hours he’d spent with her and—

“What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

Lottie had her lips pressed together, trying and failing to contain the huge grin that was threatening to break across her face. From the heartbreak evident in his voice every time he talked about his situation, she suspected that Louis desperately wanted to keep his baby but that he was being held back by his own fears and insecurities.  She wanted nothing more to shake some sense into him, to get him to realize how much love and joy and wisdom he had to give; that it was within _him_ , with or without Harry, and he had so much to offer his child.  Instead, she just shook her head and pecked him on the cheek.

“I’m just happy you’re happy.”

Louis grinned, accepting that answer.  “Oh, and I got an invite to watch her game on Thursday night.”

“Did you now?”

“Of course,” he snorted indignantly.  “Gotta see my girl in action, cheer her on and all that.”

“Can… well, can I come?”

Louis startled.  “You want to come to an eight year-old stranger’s football match?”

Lottie shrugged, turning away shyly.  “Only if you don’t mind.  This is your thing, but… I just, I feel like we haven’t hung out much since Don got here.  Wanted to spend some time with my big bro.”

“Ehm, yeah, I don’t see why not.  You’ll probably be bored as hell though.”

Lottie rolled her eyes back in his direction.  “I’ve seen how you act at football matches – trust me, I will not be bored.”

As promised, when Thursday evening rolled around, Louis jumped up and down and screamed and yelled like a madman.  Lucy’s team was getting crushed, but that didn’t stop her from tearing across the field as fast as her little legs could carry her.  She never gave up, and in the last half of the game she managed to score a goal by surprising the much larger, much faster team with the trick shot Louis had taught her.

This feeling – it was better than if his favorite team had won the World Cup.  Louis’ throat was raw and his eyes were stinging and his hormones must be seriously out of whack because he was just so, so proud of this little girl that he’d spent all of a few hours with.  Still, once the game was over and Lucy gave a quick hug to her mom and dad, she went sprinting over in Louis’ direction.

“Did you see?  Did you see that?  I did it!  They never saw it coming!”  Louis bent down so that he would be at her level when she threw her arms around him.  Alice and her husband quickly came up behind her and mouthed a quick apology for the chokehold.  “Do you want to come get ice cream with us?  We always get ice cream after a game.”

“Lucy, sweetheart, he probably wants to get home.  He was nice enough to come to your game, now let the poor man go.”  Clearly Alice was not as rapt by the game as Louis and her husband seemed to be.

“I, um- well, I actually wouldn’t mind.  But I don’t want to intrude.  Seems like it might be, you know, a family thing.”

“Pleeeeease, mummy?  I wouldn’t have scored my first goal tonight without that thing he taught me.”

“That was your first goal?”  Now Louis might actually start crying.

Her dad’s interest was piqued.  “You taught her that?” 

Louis nodded, then shrugged.  “Yeah, I kind of love this game a little bit.”

“A little bit?” Lottie piped up incredulously.  “Louis, you played it every second you got the chance growing up.  You would’ve been snatched up by a pro team if you hadn’t-“ she caught herself before getting into too much of their sad upbringing.  “Well, if your knee hadn’t gotten messed up.  And you still managed to make a career out of it, taking photos and writing articles and everything.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”  Lucy’s dad looked _very_ interested in Louis now.

“Hank!”  Alice nudged her husband’s shoulder in warning at his prying.

“Ehm, s’alright.”  Louis rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.  “It’s Louis.  Tom-“

“Tomlinson?” Hank finished for him.  “You’re Louis Tomlinson – the rising star whose career was cut tragically short and now writes some of the most widely read and respected commentary on the game?  That Louis Tomlinson?”

Lottie turned wide eyes toward her brother; she knew he wrote about sports, but she never imagined that people would’ve actually heard of him, that he was a big deal.  “Yeah, Tommo, are you _that_ Louis Tomlinson?” she mocked.

The blush on his cheeks showed through even his deeply tanned skin.

“Can you teach me another trick?”

“I’m sure Mr. Tomlinson is very busy, sweetheart,” Hank replied with a hint of disappointment.

“It’s a bit late anyway, love.  And aren’t you exhausted after all that running?” Alice added.

Louis could see the little wheels turning in her brain as Lucy tried to come up with an answer, but he spared her parents the convoluted logic of a young child by agreeing to her original terms.  “How about we go celebrate your incredible achievement with a nice chocolate cone, yeah?  If it’s alright with your mum and dad,” he added as an afterthought.

“Brilliant!”  Hank immediately brightened up, causing Alice to roll her eyes.

Louis and Lottie had ridden together and followed their new friends the short distance to the ice cream parlor.  It was one of those old fashioned places where the building was super tiny, so everyone waited in line and ordered and then ate outside.  It was nice enough out that they all took their goodies and camped out at one of the few open tables.  There weren’t enough seats for everyone – Lottie, of course, tried to insist that Louis sit, but he was sore from the metal bleacher seats (and, if he was being honest, the extra weight around his middle that was beginning to tug at his spine).  So, they let the women sit while Louis patiently fielded the endless questions from Hank about what it was like in the press box and what certain players were like in real life and if this person or that were really planning on retiring next season.

Louis had made it about halfway through his milkshake when an odd sensation in his midsection caused him to gasp in surprise.

Lottie was on her feet in an instant.  “What is it?  Are you okay?”

Louis took a few deep breaths and tried to assess himself, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.  “I- I think so.”

Lottie forced him down into her now vacant seat and knelt down so she was at eye level.  “Talk to me, Lou.  Does it hurt?  Is it more Braxton Hicks?  I’ll go get you some water.”

Lottie went to stand, but Louis grabbed her wrist.  “No.  No, doesn’t feel like that.  Was just… I can’t- it’s hard to explain.”

As the only one in the group who had actually been through a pregnancy before, Alice had some insight as to what Louis could be experiencing.   “Was it something like… like popcorn popping inside your tummy?” 

Louis considered the metaphor.  “Yeah, actually.  Wow, yeah – that’s kind of exactly what it was like.”  Louis yelped in surprise when the unexpected sensation happened again and pressed a hand to his stomach.  “What is it?  Is it bad?”

Alice grinned and shook her head.  “No, I think your little one is just sayin’ hello.  Is this the first time you’ve felt a kick?”

Lucy turned wide eyes to the hand he had pressed to his stomach.  “There’s a baby in there?”

“That’s the baby kicking?”  Louis’ voice was strained; he was relieved but also kinda terrified and shit he really should read all those damn pamphlets the doctor gave him so he wouldn’t freak out every five minutes.

Lucy leapt up from her seat and came face-to-face with his bump before anyone could protest.  “Hi, baby.  When you grow up you’re gonna be amazing at football because your daddy is gonna teach you everything he knows and then you can be on _my_ team and we’ll win all our football matches and eat all the chocolate ice cream we want,” she rambled in a continuous one-way stream of consciousness.

“That’s enough, sweetheart,” Alice chided, gently extricating her daughter and mumbling an apology.  With a put-upon sigh, Lucy returned to her chair and her ice cream.

Lottie was still staring at him with concern.  “Are you alright?”  They both knew she was asking about more than just his physical state.

Louis thought about it.  He was anxious and confused and overwhelmed but his baby was kicking; there was a small person inside him that he created that would one day grow up to have its own thoughts and opinions and passions and worries, and god would he ever be able to live without finding out who that person was?

“Maybe we should go,” Lottie suggested when he didn’t answer.

“No- I’m actually… I think I’m alright.”

“Really?”  She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.  Yeah, let’s stay and finish our ice cream.”

Lucy was happy to fill the silence that followed until finally everyone was done.  They parted ways with hugs from Alice and Lucy, and a promise to slide a little insider football information to Hank every once in a while.

Lottie wanted nothing more than to corner her brother and demand to know what was going through his head, but she didn’t want him to feel any of the pressure that he’d come there to get away from.  She had to give him space, and time.  Even if it killed her.

When Louis went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep.  He tried to picture what his life would be like if and when he gave his baby away.  He could probably gain some semblance of his old life back, of the person he used to be.  Before Harry.  Before the baby.  But… he didn’t want to go back to that life.  The person he was before was weak and afraid and incapable of feeling anything that made life worth living.  No, Louis wanted to move _forward_ – to be better and happier and more fulfilled.

But what if he couldn’t?  What if he tried to pull himself up from his weakness and doubt, but only ended up dragging his child down into the mire with him?  What if the perfect family that chose to adopt his child turned out to be more broken and messed up than he was?  What if he told Harry about the baby and they created their own little perfect family?  What if a family didn’t need to be perfect, and only really needed a parent who was willing to give absolutely anything for their child?  And what if Louis had it in him to be that parent?

Dozens of what-ifs swirled around in his thoughts and he tried to filter them, to separate them out according to whether they were coming from a place of irrational fear, genuine concern, or gratuitous optimism.  By the time his mind had quieted enough to sleep, Louis had come to a decision.  Or, at least he thought he had.  He wanted to give himself the night to think about it, to live with the choice for a while on his own to see how it settled with him. 

When he woke up in the morning with a smile on his face and the peace in his heart that he’d been so desperately searching for, he knew he’d made the right one.  As if in acknowledgement, a series of successive ‘pops’ came from his midsection.  “Good morning to you too,” he mumbled sleepily.

When Louis wandered downstairs, Lottie was pulling something out of the oven that smelled divinely of sugar and yeast.  “When’d you learn how to make that?” 

Lottie had about as much culinary prowess as Louis, and his sarcasm did not go unnoticed.  “Don left it in the fridge with detailed instructions.”

“So it is safe to eat, then,” he teased.  In response, Lottie slapped a still steaming cinnamon roll onto a plate and unceremoniously shoved it across the counter in Louis’ general direction.  “Hey, s’all in good fun.”

Lottie took a few calming breaths, but couldn’t quite keep the bite out of her question.  “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

“Oh?”  She tried to sound nonchalant, but the tension was rolling off of her in waves.

Louis walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  “Thank you for giving me space.”  He placed a quick kiss to her temple.  “I think… no, I know what I want now.”

When the silence stretched on after this revelation, Lottie spun around and stared at him with a dangerous expression.  “I have been dying over here, Louis Tomlinson, so if you don’t tell me right this second I might just –“

“I’m keeping it.”  Lottie’s narrowed eyes popped open wide and her mouth formed a surprised 'o'.  “I mean, I don’t have the first clue what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m… well, I guess I’m having a baby.”

Lottie launched herself into her brother’s arms and held him tightly and soon they were both somehow laughing and crying at the same time.  When they finally separated, Lottie’s mouth turned down into a sad pout.  “Does that mean you’re going to be leaving me soon?”

Louis groaned internally.  He was a huge ass to Niall and especially Liam, and – shit, he hadn’t even turned his phone back on in the weeks he’d been there.  He definitely had some groveling to do.  “I think I’ll have to eventually.  But first, think you’d be up for a little apology gift shopping?”


	8. The Apology

When Louis finally turned his phone back on, there were dozens of missed texts and calls, the majority from Liam.  They started out apologetic, then turned pleading, until finally he just sounded angry and then stopped trying to reach him altogether.  He tried calling him back, but his attempts were met with silence; Niall’s messages were politely concerned, simply leaving an open offer to talk if and when Louis was ready.

After one quick pit-stop to retrieve the final piece of Liam’s apology gift, he pulled into the parking lot on the side of his building.  There was no one waiting for him at his apartment when he arrived; he was both relieved and slightly disappointed.  The place felt empty, a little cold.  He only hoped that the small bag clutched in his hand would make up for it.

The next morning, Louis decided to go into the office and offer Niall his apology first – his would be easier.  He didn’t see Niall at his usual desk, and there were no telltale signs that he had been in at all that day – no half full coffee mug, no papers strewn about.  It wasn’t unusual for the writers in the office; they could do their work pretty much anywhere, and often chose to get their creative juices flowing outside the uninspiring walls of the HQ office.

While there, Louis took advantage of the time to catch up on some things that he’d let slip by in all the chaos and confusion.  That was another thing; he’d have to let his boss know that he’d need to take leave soon.  How much time, though?  And then what – daycare?  Nanny?  Could he stay at home full time but also keep his job?  And then there was the issue of that “home” – his apartment, which was barely large enough for one person, much less all the stuff that babies needed.  Which… shit, he really didn’t have anything yet.

_One thing at a time._

Before he could get overwhelmed with all the things he had yet to figure out, Louis set out to accomplish something.  Since he was in the office anyway, he wrote up what he considered to be a very moving piece about the philosophy and love of the game inspired by his time with the innocent and not-yet-jaded Lucy that, okay, may have brought a tear to his eye.  It was the kind of article that could either cost him his job or win him a Pulitzer, and by the time he was finished, Louis was surprised to find that the light was fading from the sky.  He rubbed his eyes, already exhausted but in the good way that you get after a solid day’s work.

Rather than going back to his flat, Louis decided to take a detour to his best friend’s.  It would be much harder for Liam to ignore him in person.  But as he waved goodbye to the security guard and walked the short distance to his car, doubt crept back into his mind.

Maybe Liam wanted space.  Maybe he didn’t want to see Louis at all.  Maybe he’d found a new best friend and decided he was much happier without the needy, stubborn—

And that’s when Louis stopped himself.

“No.  Liam said he’d be there for me.  He promised.”  Louis repeated this mantra to himself the entire ride over, hoping that eventually he’d believe it.

He walked up the few flights of stairs to Liam’s flat, hovering only long enough to repeat the reassurance to himself one more time, before knocking on the door.  When it opened, he very nearly dropped the gift bag that had been tightly clutched in his hand.

“Niall?”

“Louis!  You’re back!”  He threw his arms around Louis like nothing had happened, swinging them both around and into the apartment without ever letting go.  “Where’ve ya been?”

Liam was sulking in the kitchen, watching their reunion with crossed arms until he caught Louis’ eye, at which point he spun around and busied himself with the dishes in the sink, pretending not to have noticed his arrival.  “Are you really not going to tell me why you’re in Liam’s apartment?” Louis asked, looking back and forth between the two with confusion.

Niall let out one of his deep belly laughs.  “Well without you to take care of, we had a lot of free time on our hands.”  Coming from anyone else, Louis would have found the remark insulting; coming from Niall, it sounded like lighthearted ribbing.  “What can I say?  I’m charming and he couldn’t resist me.”

“Not sure you can call eating all my food and constantly having the golf channel on charming,” Liam muttered testily from the other room.

“Oi, don’t take your bad mood out on me – I’m delightful!” Niall called back in his own defense.  “He really is pissed at you, ya know,” he added, turning back to Louis with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know.  And I know I deserve it.  I owe you an apology too, Niall – you’ve been so –“

“You don’t owe me anything.  You did what you thought you needed to do for you; don’t need my permission for that.”  Niall shrugged; he didn’t know why Liam was so worked up about the whole thing, but he was starting to guess that Liam was just uptight about a lot of things.  Maybe that was why they were getting on so well – Niall brought out Liam’s adventurous side, and Liam made sure that didn’t get them both arrested.

Louis shuffled into the kitchen, head bowed in contrition as Liam set the table, clanging the silverware down with more force than necessary and refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“Liam, I –“  He was cut off by the particularly violent twang of a ceramic plate as it was slammed down onto the table.

Liam paused, collecting his thoughts before setting down the crystal water goblets a little more gently.  “You can’t do that.”

“I know.”

“Just run off like that when things get hard.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have –“

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Louis let his best friend finish with the place settings in silence.  Liam still stubbornly refused to look at him, but as the last utensil was squared away Louis noticed the table was set for three.  “Is someone else coming?”

Liam looked to the ceiling in exasperation.   “No, Louis, but we were about to have dinner and there are three of us now.”

“I’m staying for dinner?”  Louis’ eyes began to prick and he resisted the urge to embrace Liam, who was still standing a little stiffly.

“Don’t worry – I’m not _forcing_ you to stay.  But if it’s too much pressure, I can leave the room for a moment so you can run off again.”  Liam looked at him then, and Louis almost wished he hadn’t; there was anger there, of course, but also hurt, disappointment, reservation.

Louis flinched, and okay he deserved that.  “I’m sorry it happened like that.  That I worried you.  But I’m not sorry I left.  I just needed some time, and space.”

“To do what?” Niall asked, joining them around the table now that the work was already done.

“To figure out what I was gonna do.”  Louis placed a hand at the base of his stomach.  “With this little one.”  Liam looked like he wanted to say something, but then pressed his lips together, still deciding whether or not he was ready to forgive Louis.  “I’m keeping the baby.  I still don’t know shit about pregnancy or parenting or god, raising a teenager one day, and I’m not ready, I don’t even have a spare bedroom, or any clothes, and these pants are already fucking uncomfortable and I guess the baby will need clothes too and –“

Thank god Niall chose that moment to wrap him in a hug with enough power to squeeze the air out of his lungs because Louis was beginning to ramble and panic about how he most definitely did not have his shit together.  “It’s gonna be fine, mate,” he said, releasing Louis with a supportive pat on the back once his breathing had returned to normal.

Liam was still hovering awkwardly to the side when Louis turned to him.  “You were right.  I was- I always wanted to keep it.  But I was scared – still am,” he added with a nervous laugh.  “Will you… will you help me?”

After a beat, and with one long-suffering sigh, Liam finally held his arms out and allowed Louis to snuggle against him, tucking his small body under Liam’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around waist.  Quickly, though, Liam pulled away slightly and looked down in surprise.  “What’s this?  You’ve only been gone a couple weeks and now you’ve got a proper bump!”

A light blush crept up Louis’ cheeks; between not throwing up constantly and his soon-to-be brother-in-law’s cooking, he had probably gained a few pounds.

“Don’t mind him,” Niall said, swatting Liam’s arm in admonishment.  “It’s cute.”

Instead of weighing in, for lack of a better term, on this conversation, Louis held out the bag that had been in his hand since he walked through the door.  “This is for you.  Sort of an apology, and also a thank you?”  Since he’d already been forgiven, Louis didn’t really know what the gift was for at this point.

“What’s it?” Niall asked, peeking over Liam’s shoulder as he sorted through the bag.

“World’s greatest uncle,” Liam said, reading the words on the t-shirt he’d pulled out.

“I’ll take that.”  Niall snatched the article of clothing out of Liam’s hand and was racing across the apartment in unbridled, mischievous glee before Liam even had time to figure out what had happened.  Liam’s eyes narrowed and he looked about ready to bound after him when Louis spoke up.

“That’s only part of the present anyway,” Louis whispered, the words easily missed by Niall, who was still laughing like a madman from the room in which he’d locked himself in order to escape Liam’s wrath.  “The best part is in here.”  He pulled out the card that remained in the bag and placed it in Liam’s hand.  “I, ehm… I stopped by the hospital on my way back.  Nothing’s wrong,” he added quickly when Liam’s eyes snapped up in alarm.  “Just, well, the doctor who did my first scan was there.  I was a little overwhelmed at the time, as you can imagine, and she’d asked if I wanted to know the sex and I couldn’t deal with it then, but now –“

“Now you know?  You know what you’re having?”  Liam was practically dancing in his spot.

“Well, no.  Not exactly.  Not yet.  I had her write it down and seal it up in that card for me.  Thought… well, I thought you might want to see it first.  You know, if you want.”  Suddenly the whole idea seemed silly and Louis looked down at his feet, kicking at a small scuff in the floor.

Liam stopped fidgeting and stared at the envelope with wide eyes.  “Lou, I- you want… I can’t –“  He struggled to find words that would fit over the knot that had formed in his throat.  “Are you sure?”

When Louis looked up, he found Liam’s eyes already filling with tears.  He gave a small smile and shrugged.  “You were the first to suspect it was in there; might as well be the first to know what it is.”

Liam pulled Louis into a quick hug before stepping back, handling the envelope like it might crumble in his fingertips.  Louis didn’t know why he was nervous; knowing wouldn’t actually change anything.  And yet, everything would be different.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Liam tore open the outer shell, removed the card, and opened the flap, his eyes scanning the words hidden within.  His whole face scrunched up as he attempted to contain his emotions long enough to relay the news.  “Lou –“ he cooed.  “It’s a girl.  You’re having a little girl.”  As if confirming Liam’s words, Louis felt some vigorous kicks over beside his bellybutton.

“What’s going on here?” Niall questioned, coming out of his hiding spot wearing Liam’s newest item of apparel.  “Why all the cryin’?”  The breath was caught in Louis’ throat, so instead of answering he simply snatched Niall’s hand and pressed it into the side of his stomach where the little pops were fluttering wildly in response to Louis’ recent adrenaline spike.  “Is that –“

Though the words broke, Louis finally found his voice.  “My baby girl’s sayin’ hello.”

“You’re… that’s…”  Beyond words for probably the first time in his life, Niall simply broke out into the sweetest, most joyful laughter they had ever heard.  “Liam, you gotta feel this – it’s the strangest thing.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis concurred, replacing Niall’s hand on his tummy with Liam’s.  “Damn near had a heart attack the first time it happened.”

“Shhh, language!  She can hear you now,” Liam said sternly.

“She can?” both Louis and Niall chorused.

Liam simply rolled his eyes, making peace with the fact that he would probably be the only one who knew anything for a while, and squatted down so he was at eye level with Louis’ bump.  “Hey, baby girl,” he said in an octave Louis didn’t know Liam’s voice was capable of reaching, “it’s uncle Liam.”  Niall cleared his throat loudly; when Liam spared a glance in his direction Niall used his hands to make a dramatic frame around the text of his shirt.  Liam sighed.  “And uncle Niall.”  Niall beamed, satisfied, before making his way to the kitchen – after all, as exciting as this all was, they still hadn’t eaten dinner.


	9. The Blow Up

The next several weeks went by in a blur.  Louis’ boss had loved the piece that he had written about his time with Lucy, and it had quickly gone viral after publication.  With this notoriety came a promotion at the magazine, which meant that Louis could now afford to move out of his small apartment and into a genuine white picket fence house he’d fallen in love with.  It was a little further away from work, but more than made up for it with big trees that were perfect for climbing and the many other kids in the neighborhood that his daughter would be able play with.  He had actually broken down into tears when he walked into the spare bedroom to find it already painted and decorated in a sweet grey and lavender color scheme; he was going to be able to give his baby girl the things he never had growing up – a real home and a forever family, even if that family contained one fewer member than he’d like.

Liam and Niall became ‘official’ shortly after Louis had bought the house – they couldn’t really deny it anymore once Louis caught them snogging in the kitchen after they’d both conveniently volunteered to put away the boxes of dishes and cooking utensils.  As reparations for permanently branding that image into Louis’ brain, the two boys promised to come by at least once a week for dinner and family bonding.  Liam would cook them a meal that was much too healthy for anyone else’s liking – but no one else knew how to work a skillet, so they’d just have to suck it up damnit – while Niall devoted most of his energy to talking incessantly to Louis’ growing bump, trying to win over the child’s affections before she even got there. 

It was during one of these dinners that Louis noticed his friends acting a bit squirrely.  Liam was always more of the pensive type, but even Niall seemed to be measuring his words.  Very suspicious.  It wasn’t until the end of the meal, once Louis started clearing the table, that he noticed Niall nudging Liam’s shoulder, which was followed by a series of quick words exchanged in heated whispers.  Louis was only half paying attention until Liam finally cleared his throat to get his attention.  “I, uh, ran into Harry the other day.”

The dirty plate that Louis had been holding went clattering unceremoniously back onto the table.  “O-oh?”  Shit.  “What, uh… what did he say?”

“Can you believe the bastard had the nerve to ask me how you were doing?  How the hell did he think you were doing?  Still pregnant.  Still abandoned by a selfish asshole.”

At this point, Louis collapsed onto the nearest chair; his heart raced and he was having trouble remembering to breathe normally.  “You… you said that?” he squeaked, barely able to get generate enough air to carry the words.

Liam waved a hand dismissively.  “Of course not.  Didn’t say a word – wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”  He nodded definitively to himself.  “Tried my best to just ignore the little shit.”

The spots from Louis’ vision cleared, but the adrenaline still pumped wildly through his veins and caused his hands to shake.  “Is that all?”  Why would he bother bringing it up if that were the end of it?

With another nudge from Niall – almost hard enough to knock Liam off his seat – he continued.  “He… well, he had something for you.”  Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the silence stretched on.

“He has a right to see it,” Niall said, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend.  When Liam still didn’t move, Niall took it upon himself to retrieve an envelope from Liam’s messenger bag.  He held it out in front of Louis, who simply stared at it, making no move to actually touch it.

“What is it?”

Niall shrugged at the same time Liam said, “Don’t know.  Didn’t open it.”

“None of our business,” Niall said pointedly, directing his words to Liam as if continuing an argument that had already been going on between them.

When Niall finally forced the sealed paper into Louis’ hands, he could see the words _I’m sorry_ written on the front in Harry’s neat, blocky print.  “Why- why would he do this?”

At this, Liam leapt out of his chair, hands waving in the air as though all the tension he’d been holding inside exploded outward in one emphatic burst.  “I don’t know.  I mean, what the hell?  He walks out of your life, then he apparently has something left to say to you, but instead of facing it like a man he writes it down in a fucking letter like a coward for _me_ to deliver – and that’s what I told him.  I told him he was a fucking coward.”  Liam was looking at Louis pleadingly, afraid that he would see this encounter with Harry as a form of betrayal.  Louis simply nodded, acknowledging Liam’s loyalty.  “I said we should just burn the damn thing.  He doesn’t deserve to get to talk to you.”  Liam was pointing at Louis but looking at Niall, and thus missed the guilty expression crossing his face.

“And what did he say when you threatened to burn the letter?” Niall asked, guiding Liam’s tirade toward an actual point.

Liam stilled, concentrating all his sour energy into his bottom lip, which turned down in an angry pout.  He looked up to the ceiling and blew out a deep breath.  “He said we could burn the letter if we wanted but there was some money for you in the envelope so we should at least open it before destroying it,” he mumbled in a rush, almost hoping that Louis wouldn’t hear him.

The wheels inside Louis’ mind where whirring.  What could Harry possibly have to say?  And why would he give Louis money?  “But… but why?”

Liam sighed in exasperation.  “I don’t know – maybe to offer some financial support for the kid he decided to walk out on?  Too little too late, if you ask me,” he continued under his breath.

“No, but he didn’t –“  Louis stopped himself before he could say anything too incriminating.  If it had just been Niall, he probably could have gotten away with it, but Liam’s sharp mind didn’t miss the stumble.

“Didn’t what?”  Back when Harry and Louis had broken up for the second time, Liam had found it hard to believe that Harry would have so easily given up a future he’d so often spoken of wanting.  And then Louis had fled so quickly after that; perhaps there was more to the story than he was letting on.  “Didn’t what, Louis?” Liam demanded, taking a step toward his best friend.

“He didn’t… well, he- he doesn’t—“

“Louis!”

“He doesn’t know about the baby!”  Louis squeezed his lips together in a tight line as Niall’s parted in surprise.

Liam stared for a few seconds before speaking again.  “He doesn’t… what do you mean he doesn’t know?”  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  “How can he not know?  I mean, you told him.”  When Louis didn’t confirm this fact, Liam finally spared a glance at his grim expression.  “Lou?”

The word was quiet, forlorn, and Louis just wanted to crawl under the table and die.  He knew there was a chance that the truth would cost him their friendship… but he was certain that continuing the lie would.  “I… I didn’t.”  The silence that followed was heavy, and Louis was desperate for a reaction, any reaction.  Outrage, empathy, pity – he would take anything.  “I- well, I wanted him to be with me for me.  Not because he had to; not because he should be.”  Liam’s expression could have been carved from marble, as hard and unwavering as it was.  “And he didn’t want that.  He didn’t want me.  And I couldn’t—“

“Just stop.”  The soft words cut like a knife through Louis’ stammering excuses.

Louis thought he had seen every side of Liam’s anger – frustration, disappointment, worry, downright fury.  Each one tended to result in lots of yelling and chaotic gesticulations.  But this?  The obvious, aching blow that seemed to simultaneously both shatter their relationship and build a wall between them?  This he had never experienced.  And it scared the hell out of him.  “Liam, I- you have to understand.  I was such a mess then.  I wasn’t ready to tell him.”

Liam stared at Louis for a few unnerving seconds before shaking his head.  “This isn’t about that.”

“But you wanted me to tell him.”

“Yeah, I did.  Still do, in fact,” he said in accusation, narrowing his eyes.

Louis stared down at his feet and couldn’t help the question that escaped his lips.  “Are you going to tell him?”  He had threatened to do so before; at the time, the idea was unthinkable, but now it would have almost come as a relief.  After several more moments of silence, Louis looked up and… there was the ire he had expected from the beginning.

“Is that seriously all you have to say to me right now?  To ask me if I’m going to continue to keep your… secret?”  He spat the word as a curse.

Louis wanted to explain how it had happened.  How it had gone on this long.  How he had messed up before and how he had been toying with the idea of actually telling Harry now that he didn’t _need_ him in his life, but still very much _wanted_ him in it.  But he only got out a few jumbled words before Liam had had enough.

“I’m tired of your excuses, Lou!  Your whole damn life, you’re always the victim.”

“It’s not like that.  He wasn’t –“

“It doesn’t matter!  Fuck!  It.  Doesn’t.  Matter.”  Liam ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.  “This isn’t about what Harry said or did or didn’t do.  You lied to me.”

“Well I never actually said that I told him; you just assumed and I—“

“A lie by omission is still a lie.”  Liam glanced down, but Louis couldn’t look him in the eye.  “I defended you.  This whole time, I’ve been in your corner.  I- I thought… god, how could I have been so blind?”

“What… what do you mean?”

“I thought you’d changed, Louis.  Grown.  I thought you were ready for this, but—god, Lou, he really doesn’t know?”

Instead of answering, Louis countered with a question of his own.  “You don’t think I’m ready for this?”

“Of course you are,” Niall finally spoke before Liam could respond.  He had been listening to this exchange, but didn’t feel it was his place to interject on either of their behalf.  But could see both sides, and now didn’t want either of them to say something that couldn’t be forgiven.

“Liam?”  Louis had heard Niall’s reassurance, but it was not the one he needed.

“I- I don’t know, Lou.  I don’t know anymore.  Maybe… maybe you had the right idea in the first place.”

“Liam!” Niall gasped with an admonishing whack to his arm.  How could he say that after all it had taken for Louis to get to this point?

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t do this with you right now.  Do- well, do whatever you want.  Whatever you think is best.  It’s what you’re going to do anyway.”  And with that, Liam grabbed his bag and walked out the front door, leaving it open behind him for Niall.

“Niall?”  Niall had been unusually quiet, staring after his boyfriend, but looked up at the sound of his name.  “Please – I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean—“

“I know you didn’t.”  Niall hesitated a moment.  He didn’t have the emotional baggage that came with a long history of friendship with Louis, but theirs had been a relationship of openness and honesty from the beginning.  Niall had never judged him for his choices or opinions, so the fact that Louis had kept something like this from him still hurt.  But Louis looked so… lost.  So, being the friend he promised he’d be, Niall decided to push aside his own feelings for now and pulled Louis into a tight hug.  “Just give it some time, yeah?”  Liam would come around, he was sure of it.  Louis nodded into his shoulder, and Niall gave him a final pat on the shoulder before following Liam out the door.

When Niall got out to the car he was surprised to find Liam, who usually liked to be behind the wheel – a little too aggressively, in Niall’s opinion – in the passenger seat.  His forehead rested on the dashboard and it wasn’t until he’d closed the car door that he heard Liam’s distressed whimpers.  He pulled Liam’s chin up to look at him, surprised and dismayed to find tear tracks down his cheeks.

Niall had enough room to maneuver his way over onto Liam’s lap, who promptly buried his head into Niall’s chest as his arms wrapped tightly around the smaller boy’s waist.  Liam rarely cried when he was sad or upset.  Though he would never voice this theory aloud, Niall suspected it was because Liam’s default attitude tended to be on the cynical/pessimistic side, and so he knew how to cope with those emotions.  (Things like spontaneous wedding proposals and heartwarming animal rescues were a different story, however, and always seemed to induce a few sniffles.)

But these were not tears of joy, and he was touched that Liam felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable like this with him.  Niall tended to talk someone’s ear off when he was unhappy, but because it was Liam, he allowed him to initiate whether and how he wanted to talk about it.  After several minutes of simply holding each other, Liam’s breathing returned to normal and he was steady enough to speak.

“I’m a horrible person.”

Well those were the last words Niall expected to come out of his mouth, and he couldn’t stop the somewhat less than empathetic response.  “What the hell are you on about?”

“I yelled at him.  I didn’t mean to yell at him.”

“You were upset.  Which you had every right to be, by the way.”

Liam continued on as if Niall hadn’t spoken.  “And he’s pregnant.  My best friend is _pregnant_ and I basically told him to go jump off a bridge.”

Niall scrunched his brows together.  “Were we part of the same argument back there?  Because I don’t recall –“

“And then I just… left.  I fucking left!  God, I’m just as bad as Harry.  Worse, even, because I knew what Lou was going through and I promised I’d be there for him, and – fuck!”  Liam slammed a fist against the door handle, his breathing ragged.

Niall pursed his lips and waited for a few seconds of silence before finally trying to get word in again.  “I can leave… you know, if you want to continue having this conversation by yourself,” he huffed angrily.

Liam finally looked up into a pair of bright blue eyes that were somehow both amused and irritated.  “Sorry, I just – did you see the look on his face?  It was… I did that.  I did that to him.”  He was so overcome with shame that he would have buried his face in his hands if they hadn’t been digging into Niall’s torso.

“I know.  You hurt him.  But he hurt you too.  And you don’t have to hide it and suffer just because of his current condition.”  Self-loathing creases still dug into Liam’s forehead, and Niall ran the pad of his thumb along them, then left a trail of kisses along the same path.  “Maybe this is a good thing.”

At this Liam pulled away, the wrinkles in his brow now turned up in a lopsided curve as he raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “How do you figure?”

With the slight distance between them, Niall was able to begin tracing patterns into the broad, firm plane of Liam’s chest.  “He’s not made of glass, Li, despite what you – or even he – may think.  He’s strong enough to find his own happiness.”  Liam let out a derisive grunt.  “And maybe,” Niall continued, emphasizing his words with punctuated pokes to the center of Liam’s sternum, “he’ll figure out what that means for him if we just give him a little space.”

Niall suggested that Liam and Louis give each other a few days for the emotions to settle down a bit, for them each to sort out their own feelings, then reach out to Louis about getting together to talk things out.  When Liam didn’t counter the idea, Niall nodded, concluding that he had settled the matter.  He slid back over to the driver’s seat, pulling away from the curb and headed back toward Liam’s flat, certain that he would be spending the next several nights there... not that he minded.


	10. The Big Reveal

When the door closed behind Niall with a final click, Louis tried not to panic.  He stood very still and took deep, even breaths, but the tumultuous fluttering in his tummy echoed just how truly stressed he was.  “Shh, little one.  It’s okay,” he whispered, drawing gentle lines up and down his stomach in an attempt to soothe his restless daughter.  “We’re gonna be okay.”

Louis couldn’t bring himself to open the letter still clutched in his hands.  Not yet.  He had more important things to worry about at the moment.  So, he tucked the envelope between some boxes in the kitchen and made every attempt to forget about its existence entirely.

Instead of dwelling on his anxiety, Louis focused on the thousand things he found that still needed to be done around the house (his pregnancy book might have called it nesting, but Louis was convinced that his home was just a fucking mess).  He replaced the hinges on the cabinet door that didn’t quite close all the way.  He put away the outdoor furniture because it would soon be too cold to use it.  He washed mountains upon mountains of the cutest, tiniest clothes he’d ever seen and put them neatly away in the dresser he’d picked out for the nursery.  If he kept moving – kept his mind occupied and his hands full – he could almost forget that he was on his own.

Worse than the solitude, though – and harder to ignore – was the silence.  Louis had always either lived with people or around people, and it took a while for him to get comfortable being by himself in the stillness of the suburban house.  But aside from the one time he got hit with another painful round of Braxton Hicks contractions – during which time he may have totally freaked out and half-convinced himself that he would die alone on the floor and no one would find his body for months… before remembering Dr. Reid’s instructions about drinking water and walking around for a bit, which did actually ease his tense body after a while – he quite liked the domesticity of it.  And, after only a few nicked fingers and one small grease fire, he even managed to learn to cook a few basic meals – a feat that even the most adamant cheerleaders in his life would never have deemed possible.

Several days later, Niall and Liam made good on their promise.  They came by the house, Louis and Liam wearing twin expressions of remorse and contrition.  They immediately started talking over one another, Louis apologizing for lying and Liam for making him feel like he had to lie to him, for trying to push him into something he wasn’t ready to do.  As Niall had not so gently pointed out, Liam had a tendency to be a bit… pushy when it came to giving his opinions on things that affected the wellbeing of the people he cared about.  They ended up staying for dinner, and for the first time in a very long time Louis was able to talk and even crack a few jokes without worrying that he’d say or do the wrong thing.  It was… nice.  Easy.

Though Louis had reconciled with his friends, and still felt loved and supported by them, something had changed.  It wasn’t necessarily bad, but in the few days he’d had to himself, Louis was finally forced to experience what life would soon be like for him.  There would be no one there to help with the cooking or the laundry; no one there to hold and comfort him if he was upset or scared; no one to share the excited, joyful moments with.

At first, the realization was debilitating.  But eventually, after taking one baby step after another (just drive to the store to get groceries; then just make a sandwich; then just load the dishwasher), his confidence started to grow.  He thought maybe he could do this.

He would have to.

Doing everything by himself wore out his very pregnant body, but unfortunately the baby tended to nap all day while he was busy and hold dance parties all night while he was trying to rest.  This usually resulted in a lot of tossing and turning and several semi-conscious trips to the bathroom, but one particularly raucous night prevented him from falling back to sleep altogether.

“Come on, baby girl, let daddy get some sleep,” he pleaded, circling his thumb around the spot that her little foot was currently tormenting.  She shifted positions and Louis let out a contented sigh, only to be once again jolted awake by a limb jammed into an organ that was not nearly as easy to soothe.  “Alright, fine.  I’m up.”

He yawned and stretched before rolling off the bed and padding into the hall and down the stairs.  It had been a while since he’d had a craving, and eating at this time of night would probably give him terrible heartburn, but… well, he couldn’t sleep and there would be nothing but infomercials on tv and his baby just wanted some Cocoa Puffs, damnit.

Louis’ eyes barely opened as he pulled the brown box down from the shelf, but his ears picked up the sound of something else fluttering to the floor.

“Damnit,” he muttered, debating whether retrieving the object was worth the effort of maneuvering his unbalanced body all the way down to the ground.  His tired eyes scanned the tiles to look for the source of the sound, freezing on the sealed envelope that, yes, he’d managed to completely forget about.

Suddenly not hungry anymore, Louis lowered himself to the ground and peeled the paper off the floor.  He blew out a deep breath and leaned his back against the base cabinets as his fingers trailed experimentally along the edges of the still-sealed envelope, perhaps looking for a weak point where he could peek at its contents without having to commit to actually opening it.  Finding none, he chose to just rip the band-aid off.

The sound was startling in the pre-dawn quiet, and Louis took great care in unfolding the paper so that it made as little noise as possible.  As Liam had relayed, there was a single check was folded into the content of the letter, but that was not what held Louis’ attention.  Instead, his eyes raked over the lines of script that may be the last words he’d ever receive from Harry.

_Louis,_

_There are so many things I want to say to you, but there are no words strong enough to describe how sorry I am for what happened between us.  From the moment I met you, you made my life better in every way, and I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you.  You deserve it.  You deserve a lifetime of happiness._

_Although I could never repay you for all you’ve given me, enclosed is the money I owe you from our second date.  I’d only just told you that I dreamt of one day opening a bakery, and you opened your checkbook right then and there because you saw something in me that I couldn’t even see in myself.  You have always been the one to make my dreams come true.  And that is why you will always be the first and greatest love of my life._

_All the love, H._

God fucking damnit.

Louis sat on the cold floor and read and reread the letter until his ass was numb.  He could almost laugh at the irony – Harry didn’t feel like he was enough for Louis while Louis had spent literally their entire relationship feeling that way about himself.  Maybe they were both hopeless cases.

Louis pulled his legs back under him carefully, slowly, and grabbed onto the counter to haul himself onto his feet.  His mind was abuzz with conflicting thoughts – things he hadn’t allowed himself to consider until he’d seen Harry use words like _happiness_ and _love_ – and suddenly unbidden hope dared to stir within him. 

It wasn’t until he was through the door of the pristine nursery that he realized where his feet were taking him.  He had spent countless hours in the room, but this time it felt much more empty than it ever had before.  And it wasn’t just because it was missing a baby.

He slowly paced the perimeter, fingertips brushing over the smooth crib rail, then traveling over the soft quilted blanket hanging over the side.  He paused when he reached the end where a cute butterfly mobile hung, letting out a pained sigh as his mind traveled to his absolute favorite butterfly.  Sometimes he still found his idle fingers mindlessly tracing that pattern, having done so countless times during their most intimate moments. 

Louis sighed again.

He missed Harry.  It wasn’t the same burning, desperate need borne out of loneliness and fear that had overcome him when he first found out about the baby.  Rather it was the dull ache of wistfulness, of longing for something that was deeply desired.  He missed Harry just because of who he was.  He missed his corny jokes, and the way he always sang harmonies with the radio, and the way his face lit up whenever he won at football (even though they both knew that Louis had let him win).

Liam was right.  Louis had been hiding because he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do this on his own.  But he was.  He was already doing it on his own.  He didn’t need Harry, but he wanted him.  And if Louis really wanted to do what was best for his child – and he did, more than anything – then he would give Harry the chance to be part of her life.  Because he was thoughtful and kind and passionate and all manner of things Louis wanted their daughter to grow to be. 

It was then that Louis decided he could give that to her, whether Harry wanted to be with him or not.  Because she deserved it.  She was worth it, and whatever happened, Louis would just figure out how to be okay with it. 

But.  He also needed to do it like right fucking now or else he may very well lose his nerve (or come to his senses) again.

He glanced at the clock.  It was just past four in the morning.  Louis threw on a jumper and a coat to shield himself from the cold September air and toddled to the car.  In the old days, Harry would have already been hard at work on the first batch of the day’s confections, and Louis could only hope that was still the case.

Even though it was still practically the middle of the night, street parking was sparse and Louis had to leave his car several blocks away from the bakery.  When he finally shuffled to the main entrance there was a large sign adorning the window.  Louis’ stomach dropped.

SOLD.

There it was, staring him in the face in angry red letters.  It must have been recent, though, since it still looked the same inside as it always had when he peered through the window.  The tables still lined the perimeter with the chairs stacked on top, waiting to be set up for the day’s customers.  And a light shone from the back room where the kitchen was, indicating that someone – the baker/owner/FUCKING SELLOUT – was inside.

Louis had intended a calm and maybe even somewhat sappy reunion, but the sign had caught him off guard and now he was flustered and angry.  He could blame it on the mood swings, but there was also the slightest chance that he was panicking; that maybe he was too late and had missed his chance to bring Harry back into his life.  Louis stalked down the alley toward the side entrance of the building – the entrance that Harry always used and would be unlocked. 

 “What the actual fuck, Haz,” Louis yelled into the space, slamming the door behind him.  Harry had been buried in the walk-in pantry, and the unexpected exclamation elicited a series of crashes followed quickly by a string curses echoing from inside the small room.  Harry emerged, grumbling in irritation and rubbing at the sore spot on the back of his head from where it had banged into a shelf; he froze when he saw the small, fuming presence standing at the threshold.  “What.  The fuck,” Louis reiterated.

A part of him had hoped that this would happen, that Louis would come to him after reading the letter.  But considering how they had last parted ways, and the amount of time that had passed since he’d given it to Liam, he didn’t really expect it.  “What?” he asked, unable to form a coherent thought.

Louis, too, was momentarily distracted.  He had not had anyone to take care of his more… _primal_ needs since the pregnancy hormones had painfully heightened that desire, and seeing the effortlessly gorgeous man standing right in front of him caked and flour and smelling divinely of cinnamon?  Well, no one would blame the rational side of his brain for going a little fuzzy for a minute.  Harry was looking at him expectantly, and—oh yeah.  He was angry.

“You sold the bakery!”  He’d meant it to be a question, but the magnitude of his incredulity masked any semblance of it.  “I can’t believe it.  I can’t fucking _believe_ it!  You put everything you had into this place.  You poured your heart and soul into it until everyone loved it as much as you did and now you’re just… giving up?”  Instead of giving him a chance to answer, Louis continued his rant.  “No.  No, I don’t believe it.  I’ve seen the books, Harry.  This place was doing great.  How the fuck did you go so far in the red so fast?”

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion.  “Who said I was in the red?”

Louis blinked at him, afraid that he’d quite lost his mind.  “Why the hell else would you be selling it?  How else could you afford to write me that check?  For what I’m fairly certain is way more than I ever gave you, by the way.”

“Maybe this is just not what I want anymore.”  Louis looked like he was about to protest and Harry sighed.  “For a long time, yes, this was the only thing I wanted, the only thing I thought would make me happy.  But then… well, then I met you.  And you made it all a reality, but… but by then it didn’t matter so much what I was doing anymore.  It mattered who I was doing it with.”

“Harry –“

“I didn’t realize it at the time – I was so stupid – but now that’s gone.  I lost it.  I lost you.  And- and I know it was my fault, I do.  And I tried to make it work.  But I just… it didn’t matter anymore.”

Louis swallowed thickly, realizing that this was not just the result of some childish whim; Harry had clearly thought about this a lot.  It was what he wanted.  “Then what are going to do now?”

Harry gave a shy shrug.  “Dunno, really.  Was thinking maybe I’d go to France.”

Louis balked at him.  “France?  _France_?”  If he’d thought the sign out front had given him palpitations, he was damn near close to a full on heart attack.  “W-why?”

Harry clenched his fists and stretched his fingers out several times, blowing out a puff of air.  “To get a fresh start, I guess?  Maybe go to a proper pastry school and all that – make an honest baker out of myself.”  Louis didn’t even chuckle, and Harry shook out his hair and tucked his arms across his chest.  “I mean, it’s not like I really have much reason to stick around here anymore.  I can’t see you.  Liam won’t acknowledge my presence.  Even Gemma is refusing to speak to me.”

“Why?”  Gemma adored Harry, and Louis felt the slightest twinge of guilt over just now realizing that maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling sad and alone and a bit lost after the breakup.

The corner of Harry’s lip turned up in a sardonic smirk.  “Thinks I’ve been acting like a dickhead ever since… well, ever since I started acting like a dickhead.”

They both shifted uncomfortably in the awkward silence that followed before Louis spoke up.  “Would moving to France make you happy?”

Harry doubted it.  But he would not put that burden onto Louis.  “It would be a start.”  Louis’ eyes were intent on studying the floor while Harry’s were content to study Louis – the one thing that actually _would_ make him happy.  Louis looked… different somehow.  Healthier.  His face was a bit fuller.  And softer.  And maybe it was just that it had been far too long since he’d laid eyes on him, but he was convinced that Louis had never looked so beautiful.  “Come with me,” Harry breathed before he could stop himself. 

It was brash, and greedy, and probably irresponsible; Harry had fully intended on starting over, starting a new life in France or Spain or maybe even Italy.  But the moment Louis walked through that door, he realized why he wasn’t going to find contentment there.  It was the same reason why going to the movies had become a chore rather than an escape; why he came back from a run more tense than when he’d left.  And why every man he’d been on a date with that seemed great on paper had ended up dull and grating.  They weren’t Louis.  His selfless, sweet, temperamental, hot as hell Louis that could ignite the passion in him whether he was naked in bed or barely visible in a blanket cocoon.   “Come with me to France,” he repeated with more certainty.  “We can both start fresh.  Together.”

Louis was sure he was going insane.  “No.”

“No?”  For some reason – maybe it was the way Louis looked at him, or the rising heat in the kitchen despite the ovens not being on, or maybe just one too many romantic comedies – Harry had thought he’d say yes.  That he’d be swept off his feet and they’d ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

“No, Harry.  I can’t move to France with you.”  Louis shook his head; just saying the words felt absurd.

“Why not?”

“Because my life is here.  My job, my friends, my home.  All here.”

Well, if he was in for a penny he decided to be in for a pound.  “What if… what if I didn’t move?”  Louis cocked his head, uncomprehending.  “What if I stayed here, but we still, you know… made a fresh start?”  It was all he really wanted anyway; France was just a distraction to keep his mind off of what he couldn’t have.  Or, at least what he thought he couldn’t have.

“Harry, I meant what I said before.  I can’t just… forget that we were together for three years.”  Mostly because the product of that relationship was currently leasing space within his womb.  “I don’t want to start over with you.” 

Instead of focusing on the not wanting to ‘start over’ bit as Louis had intended, Harry latched on to the ‘with you’ part of the statement.  “Is there… is there someone else?”

Louis didn’t quite know how to answer that question – technically, yes, but not in the way that he’d meant it.  Instead, he chose to sidestep the issue.  “Why are you doing this?  Why do you even care?”

“Because I love you.”  Louis’ eyes widened and his mouth popped open in surprise.  “I’ve loved you since the moment you spilled iced coffee all down my shirt and offered me the one off your back as a replacement.  And I never stopped.”

“Harry –“ 

“And I know I’m the one who left – the one who gave up.  I never should have left you.  And I don’t deserve you or a second chance because I was wrong, and—”

Louis put a finger to Harry’s lips to stem the endless flow of words that were about to come streaming from his mouth.  “I’m not going to disagree with you about the leaving part, but… you may have had a point.”  Louis had had to face his own insecurities and trust issues many times over the last several months.  He was still working on them – they still reared their ugly head on a fairly regular basis – but the time apart had helped him come to recognize when it was happening and how to deal with it.  “I was wrong too.  I was shutting you out.” 

Hope surged in Harry’s heart, making him bold.  “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere; if you’ll have me.”

Was Louis really hearing what he thought he was hearing?  Was Harry asking to be part of his life?  But he hadn’t even—“B-bakery?  France?  School?”  Those were the only words Louis managed to get out, but he somehow still managed to form them into questions.

Harry shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips.  “None of that would give me nearly as much joy as being able to kiss you again.”  He stepped forward and, with a slight tilt of his head, managed to press his lips to Louis’ nose.  “And I know things weren’t perfect between us, but there’s no such thing.”  When Louis didn’t make any move to pull away, he planted kisses along his cheek until he was close enough to whisper in his ear.  “But what we had was pretty damn close.”  He left a kiss on his temple and asked, “Can you ever forgive me?” then continued the trail down his jawline, inching ever closer to his—

 “Harry,” Louis gasped breathlessly, pulling himself out of the danger zone.  “Harry,” he began again, a little more strongly this time.  His head was a little – god, was Harry seriously biting his lip right now?  Everything was a little foggy, or maybe steamy, and it took all his willpower and concentration not to launch himself at the willing man standing in front of him.  “Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to say yes and then kiss you senseless.”

“But?”  It definitely sounded like there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But.”  Louis took a deep breath.  “You don’t know everything.”

“I don’t care, Louis!” Harry cried in exasperation and, alright, maybe a little sexual frustration.  But whatever it was, he would gladly accept it if it meant getting Louis back.

Louis’ mouth quirked up into an amused half-smile.  “I think you might care quite a lot about what I have to say, actually.”  The confidence with which he made this declaration caused Harry to cock his head in confusion.  “Back then, the last time I saw you… well, there was a reason I asked that of you.”  Harry winced and hung his head, still beating himself up for being too fucking scared to get back together with him then.  Louis hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up into Louis’ earnest expression.  “Hey, it wasn’t fair to you, forcing that decision on you.  You didn’t have all the information.”  Louis inhaled and exhaled slowly, reminding himself again that no matter what response he received, he would be okay.  Then he dropped the bomb.  “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Harry had always been terrible at hiding his thoughts, and the flicker of hurt and disappointment that flashed across his features did not go unnoticed.  He wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t funny really; the false incident that had broken them up in the first place was now the very real situation that would keep them apart.  The baby wasn’t Harry’s; it couldn’t be.  They hadn’t slept together in seven months – and yes, Harry knew exactly how long it had been since they’d had sex because that was the last time he’d had sex at all.  And it was definitely.  Seven.  Long.  Months. 

“W-who?  Whose is it?”  Harry hated the fact that Louis had shared that with someone else, but it was his own damn fault.  And the more he thought about it, the more the revelation made sense, in a way.  The mysterious hospital visit, the intense emotions, the high stakes ultimatum.  Louis had been testing Harry’s loyalty, and Harry had failed.  Miserably.  He wouldn’t again.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t _matter_?” Louis practically screeched.  It was the only thing that had fucking mattered for months!

“Well, are you in a relationship with him?”

“What?”  Harry was so missing the point.  “No, it’s not—“

“Then no, it doesn’t.  And- and I don’t care that you were with someone else.  I don’t.  I mean, I do, but I can’t blame you for it.  I couldn’t do it.”

“Harry –“

“No, I have to get this out or else you’re going to shut me out and you totally have every right to but then I’ll spend the rest of my miserable lonely life regretting that I never got this out because there is no one else for me, Louis.  It’s you, it’s always been you.  You’re my forever.  And even if this baby’s not mine, I’ll… well, I’ll be its father.  If you’ll let me.”

Well, fuck. 

Harry was convinced that Louis was carrying another man’s child.  More importantly, Harry believed Louis was carrying another man’s child and would rather raise it as his own, with Louis, than to be without him.  And now Louis was so choked up that he wasn’t even able to correct him right away.  He closed his eyes and tried to gain some sort of control over his emotions.  Harry was offering everything he’d ever wanted, but there was still that one last little hurdle he had to jump over first.

“Harry,” he began cautiously, placing a hand on his stomach.  This was it.  The last bit of information before everything was out in the open.  And if Harry still wanted to be with him after that… “This little one is due just after Halloween.”  He waited for Harry to do the math, but that wasn’t his strong suit.  “Conceived back in February.”  When even this didn’t immediately click the pieces into place, Louis finally just came out with it.  “The baby’s yours, Haz.”

Harry’s mind warred within itself.  He’d heard what Louis had said, but was having trouble reconciling the words with the picture his eyes were seeing.  Louis noticed him staring at his midsection, only then realizing that even the existence of his arms was barely discernible beneath the folds of both his coat and jumper, much less his still relatively undersized bump.  He shrugged out of the jacket and took a few steps until he was standing directly in front of Harry.  Slowly, gently, he tugged up the hem of his sweater, gathering it up so that it rested at the top of his tummy.

For a moment, time stood frozen.  Then Harry’s eyes went so wide that you could see the whites all the way around his irises; his mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to put words to the emotions flip-flopping around in his chest.  Louis expected a lot of things – anger, hurt, accusation, endless questions – anything but the soft, hopeful whisper that ended with both of them in tears.

“M’gonna be a dad?”  Beyond words, Louis simply nodded.  Harry dropped to his knees and his large hands splayed across the expanse of Louis’ stomach.  It was full and firm and god, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  “I’m gonna be a dad,” he whispered reverently, leaning forward to press his lips just north of Louis’ bellybutton.  Even holding the evidence in his own two hands, Harry couldn’t believe it.  He mumbled something unintelligible into his flesh, the vibrations tickling Louis’ skin and causing their daughter to kick out in protest against the disturbance.  Harry pulled his head back in surprised wonder.  “Was that –“

“Roundhouse kick to the face?  Yeah.  Think we got a little footballer in there.”  Harry processed this for a moment before resuming his position, opting to rest the side of his face against Louis’ rounded stomach, just wanting to be closer to his child – _his_ _child_.  They stayed like that for a long moment before Louis finally broke the silence.  “What –“  His voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat several times before continuing.  “What do we do now?”

Harry looked up, turning his attention back to the man that was nervously pulling at a loose thread on his sweater.  He got to his feet, sniffling and running a hand through his hair before taking Louis’ hands in his.  “Well, first I’d like to discuss the possibility of un-breaking up.”  Louis nodded, still stunned and a little dumbstruck at the recent whirlwind turn of events.  “And then,” Harry smirked and took Louis’ left hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss right at the base of his ring finger, “I’d very much like to spend the rest of my life with you.”


	11. The Make Up

As much as Harry wanted to close up shop and spend the day making up for lost time, he had employees and customers to think about, and honestly it was one the last few days he had left as the owner of his own bakery and Louis would not deny him that.

So instead they spent the morning in the kitchen together, Harry running around and juggling about six different pieces of equipment at once while Louis worked to clarify all the misunderstandings that had gotten them there.   Starting with the night that had caused the breakup.

“So the pregnancy test…?”

“Yeah, that really should’ve been positive.  Could probably sue ‘em for quite a bit of cash for that,” Louis mused.

Harry was about to counter that poorly conceived notion when he stilled, having come to a horrifying realization.  “I broke up with my pregnant boyfriend.”  The truth of it stuck like a knife in his gut.

“Hey, you didn’t know that,” Louis reassured him, hopping off the counter on which he was perched so that he could stand in front of him.  “Hell, I didn’t even know it.”  When the pain remained etched in Harry’s face, Louis offered up his own misjudgment.  “I, uh… well, I actually didn’t find out myself until she was already half-baked.”  It was a little embarrassing, and he expected Harry to laugh.  When he didn’t, Louis looked up to find him staring wide-eyed at his tummy again.

“She?”  Harry’s eyes flicked up to Louis’ face.  “It’s a girl?”

Shit.  Fuck.  Had he really forgotten to mention that?  He was already a terrible boyfriend.  “Yeah, Haz.  We made a little girl.”

The discovery had Harry on his knees again, peppering kisses all over Louis’ bump and promising to braid her hair and to teach her to use an Easy Bake Oven and to scare away any boy – or girl – that threatened to get within 100 feet of her.

Louis threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair while he continued speaking to their daughter.  It wasn’t until several minutes later that he realized Harry had stopped talking, opting instead to just rest his palm over the spot where her little foot could be felt jutting out periodically as he marveled at her existence. 

The moment was bittersweet.  Harry didn’t get to be there when Louis found out he was pregnant.  He wasn’t there when he’d found it she was a she.  He hadn’t seen her or heard her heart beat.  “I’ve missed so much,” he finally whispered. 

Louis gave a gentle tug to the grip he had on Harry’s curls, effectively pulling him to his feet.  He tucked himself into Harry’s arms and laid a hand over Harry’s heart.  “You’re here now.”

Harry’s grip around him tightened.  “Always.  Never going anywhere again.”

When the bakery finally closed for the day, they stood awkwardly outside the main door for a few moments, unsure where they should go from there.  Harry was biting his lip – an indication that he wanted to say something, but was holding back.  He was waiting for Louis to initiate.

“Your place or mine?” Louis finally asked.

Harry smiled, relieved; he still couldn’t believe that Louis had actually forgiven him and that they appeared to have picked up right where they left off.  “Well, yours is closer, yeah?”

“It used to be.”  Harry looked confused and had he really forgotten to mention that he’d moved?  Why was he so fucking terrible at this?  “I, uh… actually, I bought a house.”

“That’s great, Lou.”  Louis’ apartment was barely large enough for him, so it made sense that he would move into a bigger space.  “Already giving our girl everything she needs.”

The words were casual and sincere, but they left Louis a blubbering mess.  He had called her ‘our girl’ and had basically said that Louis was a good parent and it was everything he ever wanted.  He threw his arms around Harry’s neck, making him hunch over in order to effectively hug back.  “Move in with me.”

At this, Harry pulled back.  “What?  You- but- but why?”  Louis’ face fell and Harry didn’t mean it like that and wanted to do everything in his power to erase the sadness from his features.  “I mean, it’s just… we never talked about it before.  You always—I never thought that was something you wanted.”

This time, Louis’ grief was directed inward.  Harry had been with him for three years without any hope or expectation of taking things any further; he’d pushed aside what Louis knew was an overwhelming desire for a home, a marriage, a family, and all because he wanted to be with Louis more than he wanted those things.  It was a miracle Harry had stayed with him as long as he did.

He needed to set the record straight.

“Harry.”  He took Harry’s hand and laced their fingers together.  “I want you.  I want everything with you.  White picket fence, minivan, the whole nine.”  Harry smirked; he could _not_ see Louis driving around in one of those bulky mum vans.  “I want to share every part of the rest of the life I have left with you.”

Harry laughed, a little breathlessly.  “You know, technically I haven’t proposed yet.”  Although he still had the ring he’d bought months earlier.  Its presence had caused him a lot of grief over the last few months, but now he was glad he’d been too weak to get rid of it.  Louis’ hand went to his mouth to bite at his non-existent nails; it was a nervous gesture, and Harry wondered if maybe he’d stepped over the line.  “I mean, I don’t- should I… should I not?  Do you not want that?”

Louis was pulled himself out of his nerves momentarily to give Harry an indignant look.  “Of course I want that.”  He was surprised at his own vehemence; there was a time not too long ago where the thought would have sent him running.  “It’s just—“  He sighed.  “I wish we could do it before the little miss arrives.  You know, bring her into a proper family and all that.”  He waved dismissively, knowing it sounded ridiculous.

Harry pulled him into his arms and kissed the top of his head.  “We can do that, if you want.”  He would do anything to make Louis happy.

Louis looked up at him suspiciously.  “The king of grand romantic gestures would be fine with a quickie courthouse wedding?”  Harry shrugged noncommittally.  “I don’t think so.”  Louis snuggled back into his embrace.  “You deserve to have your dream wedding too.”

“Any wedding that has you at the end of the aisle is my dream wedding,” he said casually, as if it weren’t the most goddamn romantic thing in the universe.

And suddenly, Louis had the urgent need to get Harry behind closed doors.  Like, as quickly as possible.

He dragged Harry to his car and sped down the road as quickly as he dared.  Harry was looking around, taking in the sights of the changing leaves and kids riding bikes, and when Louis pulled into the driveway that must have belonged to him – to _them_ – he could picture it.  He could see the misshapen snowman they would make in the front yard, the chalk outlines of hopscotch they would draw on the sidewalk, the games of hide and seek they would play around the large shade trees.  He could see it all, and there were tears in his eyes as he turned to face Louis.

“I love it.”

Louis’ heart swelled at the expression on Harry’s face; it was a mixture of excitement and joy and love, and Louis couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him.  “You haven’t even seen the best part,” he whispered against his lips.

Based on the look of lust lingering in Louis’ eyes as he’d said those words, Harry thought for sure their first stop would be the bedroom.  He was taken completely off guard when he was led into a delicate purple room.  There were already diapers stacked on the changing table and clothes hanging in the closet; little white and grey butterflies were painted on the wall that mirrored the mobile hanging over the crib.  A framed ultrasound picture was sitting on the table by the rocking chair and Harry grabbed it, tracing his fingers around the outline of his daughter.

Louis came up behind Harry and wrapped himself around his back, his tummy fitting surprisingly well into the lower curve of Harry’s spine.  “Do you like it?” he mumbled into Harry’s shoulder blades.

Harry spun around in his grasp.  “It’s perfect, baby.”  He brushed his fingers over the picture still clutched in his hand.  “She’s perfect.”  Louis was biting his lip, but then Harry decided to take over that job.  He set the frame back down and kissed Louis, long and deep.  “You’re perfect.”

And, alright, now it was time to take him to the bedroom.

When Louis finally started to come down from his post-orgasm haze, he found Harry staring at him, his eyes soft yet serious.  His hand was still blanketed over Louis’ bump – it had barely left that spot since he’d discovered its existence – and his thumb was tracing a gentle line back and forth across the skin.  Louis placed his hand over Harry’s and raised his eyebrows in silent question.

Harry glanced away several times, debating whether and how to ask what he wanted to know before finally forming the words.  “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”  His tone wasn’t accusatory, more curious and a little sad.

Louis couldn’t keep looking into that intense gaze as he stammered through an explanation.  “I was… well, I was scared.  Like, scared shitless.  Still am most days, if I’m honest.  Having a kid wasn’t something I ever imagined myself doing, and then when I found out… it was so, like, god this is actually happening?  But you were gone and I didn’t know what to do – what I wanted to do, or even what I was able to do, you know?  I thought I was on my own, and then… now I’m not.”

Harry was silent for a long time after that, thoughtful, and Louis had to bite his lip to keep himself from filling the space with more of his ramblings.  When his eyes found Louis’ face again, they were stoic and neutral, and Louis wondered what emotions were hidden behind them.

“Louis, is this –“  Harry steeled himself for the truth because he just had to know.  “Is this really what you want?”

The hesitancy and wariness in Harry’s voice set Louis on edge.  “What- what do you mean?” he squeaked.

“I mean a baby.”  There was a beat, then, “With me.” 

The question caught Louis off guard and he was suddenly worried that maybe Harry had changed his mind.  That maybe this was all too much.  Or not enough.  “Is it- I mean, is this what _you_ want?”

Harry sighed, though it was more like a groan, as the thin veil masking his emotions began to crack.  “More than anything, Lou.  God, yes.  I mean, in the past I’ve hidden that from you, but only because I didn’t think you were anywhere near ready to think about that and I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“First of all,” Louis began, sitting up so that he could face him squarely, “you were not nearly as good at hiding that as you think you were.”  Harry’s sheepish grin indicated that he may have suspected as much.  “And second of all, I’m still nowhere near ready for this.  But, well, she’s part me and part you.  And I can feel her move and I’ve heard her heartbeat and seen her little hands and feet and she’s just so _real_.  I just love her so much already.  And… and maybe it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let that go.  Couldn’t let her go.”

“Louis.”  Harry’s heart was breaking for the man that still didn’t understand just how fucking amazing he was.  “It is not selfish to want to raise your own child.”

“But what if- what if I mess her up?”  His words were quiet, hesitant, as if voicing the fear aloud might make it come true.

Harry snorted.  “Nobody’s perfect, Lou.  We’re both going to make mistakes.”  Louis frowned; he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Harry mess up when it came to children.  “But we are also going to love her and protect her better than anyone else ever could.”

Louis wanted to believe him, but his own doubts made that seem impossible.  “Promise?”

Harry held out his hand, pinky up.  “Promise.”  Louis mirrored the move and they hooked their fingers in silent agreement.  It was a simple gesture – childish, some might say – but it was symbolic, a reassurance that they were in this together and somehow they would find a way to make everything work out just fine.

Sometime between lovemaking sessions, Harry had managed to move his stuff into the house.  As Louis was not much help with the heavy lifting part – or the unpacking, or the organizing, really – he simply offered himself up as the reward for every task completed.  Some were worth a kiss, others some light fondling; some earned a full-on blowie, and everything took way longer than it needed to, but it was more fun this way, yeah?

They enjoyed their happy little bubble of solitude for several days.  At some point, Liam came over – worried, as usual, that Louis wasn’t answering his calls and only barely responding to his texts, usually hours later and with single syllables, sometimes even single letters.  When they finally answered the door, he got way more of an eyeful of both Louis and Harry than he’d bargained for.  He made them promise to pay for the surgery to replace his eyeballs – his current ones would never fully recover from the traumatic sight they’d endured – but grinned like the smug twat he was as he saw himself out, wishing them the best even as his arm remained plastered over his eyes.

The next item on their to-do list involved driving up to Holmes Chapel to talk to break the news to Harry’s family.  Louis had already called Lottie and given her the update – which she insisted was not the least bit surprising, although the damage his eardrum incurred after delivering the news would beg to differ.  But Gemma happened to be home that weekend and neither of them knew anything about the baby or the getting back together or the moving in, and… well, it was a lot, and not the kind of thing you should try and explain over the phone. 

And Louis was nervous as hell about it. 

Harry didn’t seem to resent Louis for keeping the pregnancy from him, but that didn’t mean the rest of his family wouldn’t.  Which was why Louis found his knee bouncing the entire car ride, despite Harry’s steadying hand on his thigh; why he nearly fell out of the passenger door when they stopped, despite Harry’s arm around his waist; why he felt the desperate need to run away when they rang the bell, despite Harry’s fingers binding them together.  Honestly, he was fairly certain that those little points of connection with Harry were the only thing holding him together at that point.

When the door finally opened, there was a surprised, “Oh!” before Harry was pulled forward into a hug; the motion also ended up pulling him from Louis’ grasp, and he slunk back, hiding fully behind the door and trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Harry, my love, what are you doing here?  I wasn’t expecting to see you for weeks!” 

Anne hadn’t meant the words to be hurtful, but Harry still felt guilty that his mother was so surprised to see him at a time other than her birthday or a major holiday.

“What’s this?  What am I missing?” Gemma asked, drawn by the commotion and appearing in the doorway.  “Oh.  It’s just you,” she said with a dismissive flick of her hair.

“Gemma,” Anne chastised gently.

“Why are you here?” she asked with a roll of her eyes, unfazed by her mother’s warning.

“Hey, can’t you be at least a little nicer to your favorite brother?” Harry asked in mock indignation.

“You’re my only brother,” she pointed out, then adding, “and still not my favorite.”

Harry’s lips turned down into a pout.  “Not even if I brought you a present?”

Gemma narrowed her eyes in suspicion.  “Unless it’s a Prada handbag or an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas, I don’t see it happening.”

Harry flicked his eyes to Louis’ cowering form and reached out his hand in invitation.  Louis bit his lip and swallowed his nerves, lightly cupping his palm against Harry’s.  Harry gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled warmly before turning back toward his family, where his grin turned mischievous.  “How about a niece?”

Anne and Gemma were frozen in confusion, but Harry didn’t give them time to work out the implication on their own.  He couldn’t wait any longer.  He gave a firm yank to the arm that was attached to Louis, pulling him to his side and into full view of the girls.  There was another moment of heavy silence before the high pitched squeals erupted – and Harry’s may or may not have been one of them.

Louis’ hold on Harry was lost as he was enveloped from both sides and he wasn’t quite sure how the two small women managed to be touching him everywhere at once.  It would have been overwhelming if it weren’t for the sheer amount of love and affection radiating from them.  Gemma was already snapping pictures and Louis blushed, trying again to burrow into Harry’s side.

“My baby,” Anne cooed, lifting onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck in a fierce hug.  “My baby,” she repeated, turning her attention to Louis and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.  She crouched down and reached a hand toward Louis’ bump, looking up at him in silent question; he nodded.  “My grandbaby,” she whispered, molding her hand to the curve of his stomach.  She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, but couldn’t hold back the tears from falling in neat lines down her face when she felt the gentle kicks nudging out against her palm.

Gemma knelt down beside her mum, not bothering to seek Louis’ permission before placing her hand on the other side of his belly.  “Hey, little one, it’s Auntie Gemma.  I love you so much, and I can’t believe your fuck-up of a dad managed to make something so amazing.”

“Gemma,” Anne warned again, though there was little bite to it.

It was all too much, too perfect for Louis, and he felt a little lightheaded.  But then Harry came up behind him, allowing Louis to lean back and settle against his strong chest.  Always his rock.  His arms coiled around Louis’ shoulders and he had never felt more safe, more loved, more content than he did in that moment.  His daughter was going to have more than just parents.  She was going to have a _family_.

They spent the whole evening with Harry’s mum and sister.  Louis and Gemma spent most of the time being overly competitive with each other over board games, cursing and mocking the other good-naturedly.  Anne and Harry made cookies and sorted through boxes of mementos from Harry’s childhood, becoming extra emotional in knowing that soon Harry would have his own child’s haphazardly beautiful macaroni art to put on display. 

Louis was exhausted when Harry finally hauled him up to bed.  It was a tight squeeze, trying to fit two and a half people into one double bed, and the constant rolling in Louis’ belly was not helping.  After his third trip to the bathroom, he decided he was more hungry than tired and snuck down to the kitchen for a snack.  His eyes were still half-closed as he poked his head in the fridge, not even sure what he was looking for.

“Can’t sleep?”  Louis glanced back over his shoulder and squinted, barely making out Anne’s soft, ethereal shape in the darkness.  He shook his head.  “The little princess keeping you up?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Louis let out a long suffering sigh and shut the fridge.  “Already a night owl, this one.  Haven’t been able to sleep through the night in weeks.”

“Hate to tell you this, love, but it’s only going to get harder.  And then once she’s here?  You’ll be lucky to sleep at all!”  She chuckled at Louis’ horrified expression and pulled him into a side hug.  “It’ll all be worth it, though.  For perfect moments like this.”  Louis raised a skeptical eyebrow at her and she laughed again.  “Alright, so this isn’t _exactly_ how I pictured the introduction of my first grandchild into our lives.”

“You’re not the only one,” he muttered.

“Still,” she continued, turning to face him.  “Doesn’t make it any less perfect.”  She smiled sweetly and Louis had to force himself not to cry.  Again.  “How about some nice warm milk and cookies?”

Louis felt all of five years old as Anne heated the milk and put the treats on a plate while he sat at a barstool swinging his feet that couldn’t quite reach the floor.

As Louis nibbled at the cookie, he marveled at its perfection – just the right balance of softness and crunch and salty and sweet.  There were even intricate little yellow roses drawn in royal icing on top because they were Louis’ favorite and, well, Harry was a bit of a show-off.  He must have pulled a face or made a noise, because Anne placed a hand on his forearm and gazed at him with concern.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

Not really, no.  He had everything he could ever want.  But.  Harry had given up everything – his home, his job, his future – and Louis couldn’t quite convince himself that he would be worth it.  That he would be enough.  “Harry sold the bakery.”  It wasn’t the root of the problem, but it was definitely a symptom.

“I heard.”  She paused, sensing there was more but allowing Louis the chance to decide how much he wanted to say.

“He loves baking.  And he’s- he’s so good at it.  It makes him happy.  I mean, you know how he gets.”  Harry was frantic and clumsy around the kitchen during the actual mixing and kneading and baking part, but somehow when it came time to decorate he had steadier hands than a surgeon and he beamed with pride as his wedding cakes never failed to make the brides cry.  “And he gave that up.  And what if he’s not-  What if I’m not—“  Louis choked down a sob and Anne grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “What if we’re not enough?” he finally asked, resting his other hand on his tummy.

He knew he was being irrational, that it was a combination of his past and his hormones, but he couldn’t help it.  The tears bubbled over and pretty soon he was crying into Anne’s shoulder while she ran her fingertips softly up and down his back in that soothing way that all mums somehow instinctively knew how to do.  When he had finally quieted down and had a few sips of his now lukewarm milk, Louis pulled away.

“You know, I was there the day the bakery opened.”

“Yeah, I remember.”  Vaguely.  Louis and Harry had stayed up two nights in a row trying to get everything ready, so when the day came it was more of a blur of rearranging furniture and shaking hands and figuring out how to work the cash register.  Still, it had all been worth it to see the look on Harry’s face when he sold his first cupcake.  “Harry was so happy that day.  Proud.”

“Funny thing is, every time he talks about that day, he barely even mentions the bakery.”

Louis turned to look at her then, his brows furrowed in confusion.  “I don’t get it.”

“Whenever he mentions the grand opening, he’s always talking about how ‘Louis picked out the perfect artwork’ and ‘Louis invited his whole company which is the only reason he had so many customers’ and ‘none of it would have been possible without Louis’.”

“He does?”

Anne nodded.  “It was both the happiest and the saddest day of my life, that,” she sighed.

“W-why?”

 “Because that’s the day I realized my little boy wasn’t mine anymore.”  She looked at Louis and smiled.  “He was yours.”

And, alright, Louis lost it again.  Anne got up and curled herself around Louis’ shoulders, resting her cheek against the back of his head and rocking them gently back and forth.  It was toward the end of this latest emotional breakdown that Louis had an idea.

“Anne?”

“Hmm?” she hummed in acknowledgment.

“Harry’s last day is in two weeks.  I was wondering if… maybe you could help me find a way to close the bakery out with a bang?”


	12. The Proposal

Louis was so proud of himself.  Their whole relationship, he could never compete with Harry, the great romantic who was always creating unforgettable experiences that included things like travel to exotic countries, or sexy boudoir photo shoots, or practically carrying his sleepy ass up a mountain just so they could watch the sunrise over the rolling hills together.  There were even live animals involved in one particular escapade, although Louis didn’t count that in the win column seeing as how he ended up with his arm in a sling and several exotic vaccinations.

But this time, Louis had help.  He was going to distract Harry the morning of his last day of work – he was certain he could think of _something_ to keep him in bed for a few extra hours – while Anne and Gemma snuck in to recreate the look of the grand opening and surprise him.  There were lots of photos from that day to draw inspiration from, and Louis thought maybe he could even track down the very first customer, the one whose picture, face all smeared with frosting, had been hanging behind the counter ever since that first day.  It might be a little sad, but Harry would appreciate the sentiment.

It was about a week later that something changed.  Anne claimed that Louis was stressing himself out worrying about all the details and doing everything without Harry noticing, and insisted on taking over the task of planning and executing the surprise.  Louis huffed a little at that, suspecting that perhaps she was just getting annoyed with his constant stream of calls or texts that came with every new thought or idea he had.

So, Louis found himself sidelined in his own surprise.  He felt a little guilty in forcing Anne to take over everything since it had been his idea in the first place, but he had to admit it was a weight off his shoulders.  This way, he got to get all the credit without actually having to do any of the work.  And Gemma always had a good eye for decorating; she’d make sure it was spectacular.

When the big day finally arrived, Louis awoke to find the sun streaming through the curtains and the other half of his bed empty.  He groaned.  _Of course_ their little girl decided to give him a break and let him sleep in on the one day he actually needed to get up early.

He glanced at the clock.  7:53.

Shit.

Fuck.  Harry had probably gone to the bakery hours ago and his whole surprise will have been ruined by now.  He groaned again and threw himself back down onto his pillow in defeat.  When his phone chimed with a text, he almost didn’t want to read it.  When it chimed again, he finally gave into his curiosity.

_Saw Harry in the bakery this morning.  I knew you weren’t as good in bed as you claim to be ;)_

Louis was about to tell Liam to fuck off when he read his second message.

_I’m taking him to breakfast at 9.  Told the girls to hold off until then.  I’d suggest getting your ass down there sometime after that._

Now Louis wanted to thank the gods for Liam’s annoyingly punctual and overly responsible nature.  But he didn’t have time.  He had just over an hour to shower and pick out the perfect outfit and wrap Harry’s gift and… fuck, he had to get going.

Everything took longer when you were pregnant, but Louis managed to leave his house with two whole minutes to spare and he deserved a goddamn trophy for the amount of effort it took.  Again, he had to park several blocks away, and scowled at the cold autumn wind for even threatening to tamper with his perfectly styled fringe.  He shuffled the short distance to the storefront and—

Huh.

He expected there to be an excited bustle of activity going on inside, but it almost… well, honestly it didn’t even look open.  Louis knew he shouldn’t have left the planning to someone else.  It was supposed to be perfect, and he tried to keep the tears of disappointment and frustration at bay as he slipped through the front entrance.

It was dark, and the first thing he noticed was the smell.  It caught his attention because it should have been sweet and warm, like vanilla and icing; instead it was still sweet but more floral, and… why would a bakery smell this way?  Had the next tenant already moved in?

When his eyes finally started to adjust, Louis found that the room was glowing softly with the light of a hundred candles that created a pathway leading toward the kitchen.  As he started following the trail, the sound of his steps was muffled by a layer of yellow rose petals blanketing the floor beneath his feet.  He thought it a little odd – a little romantic for the occasion, and also wrong because yellow roses were Louis’ favorite, not Harry’s – and cautiously pushed his way through to the back room.

On the other side of the door, he was greeted with a crowd of people.  It was still a little difficult to see, but he made out the faces of Anne and Gemma to his left.  Niall and Liam were to his right, and he was about to ask about what the hell he was doing there when he was supposed to be distracting Harry with breakfast, but then his eyes landed on—

“Lottie!”  He threw his arms around her, just barely remembering to mumble a polite hello to her fiancé Don while still buried in her shoulder.

“Not just me,” she said, a little breathless.  The words were labored, as if she was having trouble getting them out, and Louis was baffled as to why his unflappable sister sounded so choked up until he looked – really _looked_ – at the faces surrounding him.

Lottie wasn’t the only Tomlinson child there.  Their younger half-sisters as well as both sets of twins were there, some with their partners and all with huge smiles on their faces.  He recognized more of Harry’s family around, as well, but he was just so overwhelmed.  He couldn’t—it was hard to form a coherent thought.

He hadn’t seen them in so long and he wanted to squeeze them tight or pinch their cheeks or make some motherly comment about how much they’d grown or something, but he didn’t know how they’d gotten there or why they were there and his brain had just stopped working and he was too confused to even burst into tears like he wanted to.

The group collectively herded Louis further into the room and then parted, forming two neat little groups on either side of an elegantly dressed round table, complete with more candles and rose petals and a small but beautifully detailed cake adorned with edible pearls and spun sugar swans.

Louis’ eyes took all of this in, this picture of elegance and beauty, but there was one thing that stood out.  One thing that would always be undeniably more radiant.

Harry was dressed in a suit perfectly tailored to his long, lean shape and with just the right amount of sparkle so that the light clung to him whenever he moved and he was practically glowing and fuck, how long had Louis’ mouth been hanging open?

He was looking at Louis like he was supposed to say something, but all that came out was, “You’re supposed to be at breakfast.”  Harry chuckled, and maybe it was the atmosphere and his foggy brain but even that sound seemed magical and like wooden windchimes tinkling as they caught the breeze.  “What is all this?”

 “One of my ‘grand romantic gestures’, I believe you called it.”  He winked and Louis honest-to-god went weak in the knees.

Louis wanted to be mad.  He wanted to be indignant at having his painstakingly crafted surprise hijacked.  But Harry’s eyes were all crinkly and shimmering with excitement, and his smile was dazzling and revealed dimples so deep that Louis would swear you could strike oil in them, and his hands… god, those hands that were the perfect balance of strength and grace were nervously twirling a small box coated in a red velvet fabric that was just as rich and soft and vibrant as his lips and—

Oh.

_Oh._

Louis was about to speak – or try, anyway; he doubted anything intelligible would have actually come out – but Harry beat him to it.

“Louis.”  Again, Louis was momentarily lost, captivated by the way his name slow danced its way out of Harry’s mouth, and god he would never get tired of that.  “Today, I am saying goodbye to something that I love.  But I can’t bring myself to be sad about letting go of this dream because it gave me back something that I love even more.  It brought you back to me; it made room for an even bigger dream.”  He reached for a piece of paper that had been lying in wait on the table and placed it in Louis’ hands.  It was a drawing from when Harry was five, captioned ‘Where I See Myself in 20 Years’, and depicted a crudely drawn house with two stick figures standing next to a slightly smaller stick child.  “Having you in my life has fulfilled every dream I’ve ever had, but I was wondering if you would do me the honor of fulfilling just one more.”  Harry fiddled with the clasp on the box, popping it open and presenting it to Louis as he got down on one knee.  “Louis Tomlinson, will you marry me?”

Fuck.

Jesus Christ, fuck.

Louis should say something.

Louis should _definitely_ say something.

But.

Fuck.  Everything about this was so fucking perfect and he couldn’t move or think or speak, and he knew he should say something because staying on the floor like that couldn’t be good for Harry’s knees or his back and the room was too damn silent and the longer he waited the further Harry’s face fell and that should be a fucking crime and it was his own fucking fault.

Louis dropped to his knees – alright, so it was more like a slow and halting slide to his knees – so that he was on the same level as Harry.  He leaned forward until their foreheads were resting on each other.  Their field of vision was filled with the other, and it was more intimate this way, as if they were the only two in the room.  With all his senses focused on the man in front of him, Louis could finally think again.  Could finally voice aloud the word that every cell in his body had been screaming since the moment Harry had literally come crashing into his life and asked if he was okay.

“Yes,” he whispered so softly that even Harry had trouble hearing the word in the oppressively silent room.

The look on Louis’ face, the delayed response to his proposal, as well as Louis’ breathless response had Harry doubting himself.  “Are you sure?”  It was a lame follow-up question, but he hadn’t exactly scripted this part.

Louis’ mind was buzzing, simultaneously looking back over the entirety of his life so far – and for once not having it in him to resent his past circumstances because they had brought him to this moment – and getting flashes of everything their future together might entail – everything from seeing Harry standing at the altar to walking their daughter down the aisle at her own wedding, and every dance recital, family holiday, and graduation in between.

 “Fuck yes.”  Louis tried to fill his words with more conviction, but his body was still overloaded with so many emotions that he could barely command his mouth to move.

Harry pulled away slightly so that he could stare directly into Louis’ eyes; they were closed tightly to hold back the moisture pooling behind them.  He could have been carved from stone in his stillness, a work of art with an expression as unreadable and mysterious as the Mona Lisa, and Harry again wondered whether this was something Louis really wanted.  “Louis, can you look at me please?”

The soft, serious request pulled Louis out of his reverie.  He found Harry’s eyes on him, the uncertainty still evident in the creases between his brow and the slight pout to his lips.  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… I know there’s a lot of people here.  I don’t- you don’t have to say yes.  If you don’t want.”

Louis wanted to kiss away every line of worry and doubt etched in his skin, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could contain himself and, well, as Harry had pointed out… there were a lot of people there.  So, words would have to suffice.  “I love you, Harry.  And I want to spend every day loving and being loved by you.”

 A hopeful smile tugged at one side of Harry’s mouth, hinting at the dimple in his cheek.  “Promise?” he asked, echoing Louis’ earlier supplication in his moment of doubt.

Harry watched as Louis brought up his hand, pinky standing at attention; when he looked back up, a smile that was warmer than the sun was stretched across Louis’ face and his eyes were condensed to mere slits.  “Promise,” he vowed, hooking their fingers together.

The box that had been tucked under Louis’ arm thudded to the floor as he reached up to curl his fingers into Harry’s hair.  Painfully aware of their vast audience, Louis settled for planting a soft, swift kiss on his lips, mumbling promises to show Harry the full extent of his gratitude later that evening.  Harry pulled away with a growl and looked as though he wanted him to make good on that promise right then and there.  But then the shimmery paper of the forgotten gift caught his attention and he raised his eyebrows.

“I, uh… well, I kinda thought this was going to be a going away party.  Couldn’t come empty handed.”  Nothing could compare to what Harry had just done, and Louis was a bit embarrassed about it now.  He looked down and picked at a few of the rose petals scattered around him, shredding their delicate skin into very expensive confetti.

Harry retrieved the box and placed it in his lap, then hooked a finger under Louis’ chin to bring his gaze back up.  “Thank you.”

Louis shrugged and looked away again.  “You haven’t even opened it yet.  Could be terrible.  You don’t know.”  He kept murmuring under his breath, and Harry just rolled his eyes.

Harry pulled off the top of the box the quite easily – the base and lid had been wrapped individually – and peeled back the many folds of tissue paper to reveal a pink onesie.  “Lou—“ Harry began, but it was all he could get out before the words stuck in his throat.

Louis took the little outfit from his hands and laid it across the front of his tummy, right over top of the baby that would soon be wearing it.  The words ‘Daddy’s Little Cupcake’ were spelled out in sparkly cursive letters across the front, and Harry reached out to trace them with his fingers.  There was one other item in the box that completed the outfit, which Louis had to dig around for – he really should have used filler paper that was not the exact colors as his gifts.

“Aha!”  The second piece was the cutest little crocheted newborn hat that was constructed in such a way to look like the top of a cupcake – a swirling mound of white frosting, complete with a cherry on top.  He fluffed it out and balanced it at the top of his bump, giving a sort of 3D display of the adorable ensemble.

Louis had expected some laughs or ‘aww’s, so when the room remained silent he looked back up and Harry was… well, Harry was everything.  He was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.  Happy and sad.  Scared and utterly certain.  Pained and overjoyed.  He was everything all at once, and he wasn’t sure which gave rise to the tears falling freely down his cheeks or why his heart was racing or what was causing his hands to shake.  But there was one thing he did know.

“I love you,” Harry whispered brokenly, wrapping his hand around Louis’ waist, pulling him as close in against his body as his pregnant belly would allow, and nuzzling his nose into Louis’ artfully disheveled hair.  “Perfect.”

Louis wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the proposal, or the gift, or the presence of their families, or the closing of this chapter in his life.  He chose to believe it was simply in reference to the way their bodies fit against each other like a two-piece puzzle.  In any case, Harry was right.

It was perfect.


	13. The Late Night

He really should have known that the actual proposal was just the beginning.  This was Harry, after all, who one time managed to turn a simple movie date into a three-day affair that somehow ended up with them sneaking onto some famous musician’s party yacht in another country.  A simple gesture of flowers and friends simply would not suffice.

However, in deference to Louis’ currently limited supply of energy, Harry did constrain the festivities to a single day, during which time he managed to squeeze in some semblance of a housewarming, baby shower, family reunion, and engagement party all in one.  There were games and gifts and enough food to stock their fridge for weeks, and by the end of the day, when it was time to turn the lights off and lock up the bakery for the final time, their hearts were so full of love and joy that they couldn’t even bring themselves to be sad, instead closing that chapter of their lives with soft smiles and contented sighs.

The celebrations carried over to their house, all guests appropriately delighted with its quaint charm and warmth.  These days Louis’ sleeping schedule tended to mirror that of the sun, but the mother hen in him badgered him into staying awake and active long after he preferred so that he could soak up as much time with the people he loved as possible.  He didn’t know when he’d see them all again, or if they’d ever even all be in the same room again in his lifetime.

So, instead of doing the responsible thing and getting the rest that his body was begging for, Louis sucked it up and walked on swollen ankles, laughed through the ache in his back, and kept a supportive hand on the underside of his swollen belly in an attempt to alleviate the constant pressure on his bladder.  He didn’t even regret it… until he made the mistake of ceasing in his constant movement, thus allowing the shocks of pain to come to the forefront of his awareness.

Harry had barely closed the door – having said goodnight to Gemma and Lottie, their final houseguests of the night – when he heard a loud groan coming from the couch.

“Louis?”  The only response he got was another noise of discomfort.  “Babe,” he sighed empathetically, seeing Louis’ pitiful form splayed across the couch.  His legs were dangling over the armrest, he had a pillow jammed into the space beneath his lower back, and one arm was barred across his face while the other hung limply over the side and dusted the floor.

“M’exhausted,” Louis whined, the words muffled against his skin.

“I know, love,” Harry said, sitting on the floor beside the couch and interlacing their fingers.

Louis snorted; he very much doubted that Harry had any idea what this level of bone-deep weariness felt like.  “She won’t stop moving.”

Harry twisted around so that he could place his free hand on Louis’ bump, drawing his fingers up and down its length.  “Already causing trouble, little one?” he asked, leaning down so he could whisper to her directly.  “I know we kept you up past your bedtime, but it was all my fault; no need to punish papa for it.”

Louis hummed in agreement.  “She’ll be returning the favor soon enough, though.”  Harry’s movements stopped and Louis lifted his arm enough to peek at him.  When he saw there were tears in his eyes, he struggled to push himself up onto his elbows.  “What’s wrong, Haz?”

Harry just smiled and shook his head.  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.”  Louis’ brows furrowed and Harry planted a kiss on the back of the hand that was still clutched in his.  “Really, Lou.  God, I’m just—“  He looked up to the ceiling and let out a shaky breath.  “We’re living together, and we’re getting married, and we’re gonna… soon we’ll have a—“  He got choked up again, but Louis reached out and cupped his cheek, nodding in understanding.  “I’m just so happy.  You have no idea.”

At this, Louis had to laugh.  “Whatever you’re feeling, I guarantee I’m feeling it times a thousand.”  Harry was about to protest when Louis offered him a smug smirk.  “Pregnancy hormones,” he explained.  It was the trump card, and Harry had no counter to it so Louis laid back down and closed his eyes in victory.

He expected more grumbling, but instead Harry extricated himself from Louis’ grasp.  He was about to pout at the forced separation, but two seconds later he was being hoisted unceremoniously into Harry’s arms.  Louis instinctively coiled around Harry’s neck, whose broad chest was shaking with laughter as Louis flailed and clung to him for dear life.  Louis wanted to reiterate how heavy he was, about how ridiculous this was and how Harry was going to hurt himself, but Harry just shushed him as he walked them slowly toward the stairs and up to their bedroom.

“How about a nice warm bath and then a cuddle?” 

At this suggestion – and, honestly, too tired to properly protest – Louis simply nodded against his shoulder.  It sounded like heaven.

Harry added some scented oils as he filled the tub, Louis still draped lazily across his lap, and lit the room solely by the glow of a few candles before gently undressing Louis and lowering him into the soothing warm water.  Once settled, Harry went straight to work systematically kneading his fingers into all the tense muscles in Louis’ neck, shoulders, feet, and… alright, maybe there wasn’t so much tension in his ass and thighs, but they were just as happy to receive some attention too.

Louis was jelly-limbed by the time Harry pulled him to his feet, covering him in an oversized towel and then wrapping his arms around his shoulders.  Louis tucked his head into Harry’s neck, the faint remnants of his cologne mixing with the floral scents of the bath oils and making Louis a little lightheaded.  Or maybe he was just very deeply in love; it had a similar effect.  Either way, he was secure in strong arms that guided him over to the bed.

Louis whimpered at the removal of his warm cocoon, but his feet were quickly guided into a pair of joggers and his head stuffed through an oversized jumper.  They were both fresh and hot from the dryer and Louis could just cry from sheer bliss.

Once Louis was horizontal and as comfortable as he could get in his current state, Harry climbed in behind him.  “Goodnight, fiancé,” he whispered as he molded his body around Louis’ back, throwing an arm around his waist and interlocking their fingers where they rested over top of their growing daughter.

Though Louis quickly slipped into the deepest sleep he’d achieved in weeks, Harry couldn’t help but stay up and admire him for a while.  He was so beautiful like this.  Strong, but vulnerable; still, but so full of life.  Harry couldn’t believe he would get to spend the rest of his life with this man, and he could not wait to make it official.  He knew how much Louis wanted to get married before the baby was born, but Louis insisted that the promise was enough for now.  Louis would have been happy simply saying their vows as they currently lay, in sweats in bed in the middle of the night.  But, he didn’t want to deprive his partner of this occasion, and he knew that if Harry had his way they would spend three life savings and invite everyone they had ever met to celebrate in a to-do that would rival the Oscars.  They would probably end up settling somewhere in between the two extremes, and that would take longer to plan and execute than the six weeks or so they had left before the little miss arrived.  So, they agreed to enjoy being engaged and learn how to handle parenthood for a while before the subject would be brought up again.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from painting his thoughts with images of flower arrangements and fancy suits and piercing blue eyes meeting his from the other end of the aisle as he drifted off to sleep.

It was only about an hour later that Louis awoke with a hiss, his stomach contracting painfully beneath his and Harry’s still clasped hands.  The short rest had not been nearly enough to rejuvenate his overworked physique, but if he had any hope of getting back to blissful unconsciousness he needed to get up, to walk around and drink some water, and had taken to keeping a glass by his bed for this very reason.

With a groan, Louis pulled himself from Harry’s arms.  He downed the contents of the cup in a few large gulps and heaved himself off the bed.  The movement induced another gut-wrenching cramp and he doubled over, bracing his palms against the nightstand and clenching his jaw to stifle a gasp.

Not wanting them both to suffer, and giving a fond – if slightly jealous – glance back at Harry’s quiet form, Louis shuffled into the hallway.  He paced its length back and forth for what, at that time of night and for his level of energy, felt like an eternity, but was probably no more than 10 minutes.  In that time, the small amount of water he’d consumed had already worked its way through his system and was now insisting that Louis relieve himself of it.

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked groggily, having stirred when Louis reentered their room and started waddling his way toward the bathroom.

“Fuck!”  Louis clutched at his stomach and threw a hand out against the wall to keep from falling completely over.  Couldn’t his damn body at least pick one affliction to torment him with at a time?

“Louis!”  Harry startled fully awake and practically leapt to Louis’ side in a single bound, quickly snaking an arm around his waist and supporting most of his weight as he gasped for breath and kneaded his fist into a particularly insistent spasm at his lower back.  “What’s wrong?  Are you in pain?”

“Yes!” Louis snapped, patience wearing thin with these pointless contractions that were hindering his ability to alleviate the aching need to pee.  At Harry’s panicked expression, though, his face softened.  “I’m fine, love.  Just… help me to the toilet, yeah?”

It took them longer than he would have liked to crawl their way over to the en suite, during which time Louis assured an increasingly nervous Harry that nothing was wrong, that this had happened before and it was normal.

Harry helped where he could, pulling Louis’ boxers down and lowering him down onto the seat – because god, it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he now had to sit down to pee, now Harry had to bear witness to the act and even _assist_.  Despite Harry’s hovering and refusal to leave Louis unattended, he finally yielded to his body’s natural processes and let out a satisfied sigh.

As he was finishing up, another contraction wrapped its way around his midsection and squeezed, causing him to hunch over and curl in on himself. 

It was then that he noticed the blood.

“H-Harry?” he questioned timidly, unable or unwilling to ponder the implications behind the little drops of red that almost looked black in the unlit room.

From the moment Louis had first busted back through the door, huffing and obviously hurting, Harry had practically been hysterical.  He’d started muttering to himself, to Louis, mind racing and hands fluttering endlessly around in search of something to do, some way to be useful.  Now, though, he had absolutely frozen in place and Louis was the one to break out in a panic.

This was different.  This… this had never happened before.  He didn’t know what it meant, but the incessant pressure at his core combined with a release of bodily fluids pointed to a very obvious potential answer.

“What if it’s real?  Shit, what if… what if she’s coming, Haz?  It’s too—I can’t be!  It’s too early.”  As his brain relentlessly pursued all the possible consequences of that scenario, a protective hand pressed firmly against the wall of his abdomen, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a much darker realization.  “She’s not moving,” he whispered, causing Harry’s previously unfocused gaze to snap back to attention.  “She’s always awake at night,” he continued to ramble.  “What if she’s—what if…”  A debilitating wave of anxiety and fear crashed through him and caused a river of tears to erupt from his eyes.

Harry, finally shaking out of his stupor, pulled Louis against him tightly.  “She’s fine, baby.  You’re fine.  Everything is going to be fine,” he said, echoing Louis’ earlier assurances and guiding them back to the bedroom.  They both knew there was no way to know that for sure, but Harry still needed to say it and Louis still needed to hear it.

Everything was eerily silent as they prepared to go to the hospital, with only the sounds of Louis’ quiet sobs breaking up the chilly, pre-dawn quiet as Harry rushed around gathering the things they would need for the journey.

Once in the car, Louis latched onto Harry’s hand like an anchor – keeping him grounded, keeping him sane.  At one point, he finally, _finally_ felt a lazy roll from within his womb.  It was just a tiny stretch, so small that it probably would have gone unnoticed if Louis had not been focused so intently on searching for any sign of movement, but it brought forth a fresh wave of hiccupping cries.

As they pulled into the emergency room entrance and eased their way inside, Louis was positive that Harry’s arms and words were the only thing holding him together.  He whispered a constant string of support, to which Louis dutifully nodded along even if he couldn’t make himself believe it.  Harry never released his hold on him, even when he was filling out the admission forms, even when they were led back to a triage room, even when the nurse was performing her initial examination.

Despite the still sporadic contractions, the baby hadn’t descended and Louis wasn’t dilated at all, so they ruled out that he was going into pre-term labor.  It should have been a good thing, but Louis was convinced that the only alternatives were worse.

They weren’t left to their own spiraling thoughts for long before a short man with graying hair, a few too many wrinkles for his age, and sporting the telling crisp white coat of a doctor whisked into the room.  “Mr. Tomlinson,” he began, glancing up from the paperwork the nurse had provided him, “I’m Dr. Mendosa.”  Seeing the two men clutching at each other desperately, he forewent the usual handshakes and pleasantries and got straight to the point.  “What brings you here tonight?”

The doctor’s tone emanated a practiced calm, but that only served to exacerbate the very un-calm spirit trying to claw its way into every thought and action that overtook Louis’ body.  He tried and failed again and again to open his mouth to form actual words, but the only sound he could manage was a pitiful squeak.

“He was bleeding,” Harry finally supplied, voice surprisingly steady.

“How much?” the doctor asked, clicking his pen in preparation to take detailed notes on the context surrounding his patient’s current condition.

“Not much, I don’t think.  He was having some contractions, Braxton Hicks according to the nurse,” he huffed, still not entirely convinced of her assessment, “and when he got up to go the bathroom, that’s when we noticed his boxers were stained.”

“Have the contractions let up now?”  He directed the question at Louis, who, though still unable to speak, nodded his head.  “Good.”  Dr. Mendosa got up from his seat and walked over to the exam table to palpate Louis’ stomach and press his stethoscope into his skin at various points.  “Are there any other symptoms?”

When Louis remained silent, Harry continued to relay the little he knew.  “He said she hasn’t been moving much, and she’s usually pretty active at night.”  They would both give anything to be burdened with that particular torment at the moment.

The doctor contemplated all the information he'd been given.  “Has he been under any unusual stress or activity in the last day or so?”

“I mean, we got engaged this morning.  Or… yesterday I guess?”  He was having trouble keeping track of what day it was or how much time was passing.  “We had a lot of people over.  They stayed pretty late and he was pretty exhausted by the end.”  Harry’s eyes widened in alarm as he looked pleadingly at Dr. Mendosa.  “Did I… is this my fault?”  He glanced at Louis, who would not meet his eyes.  “Shit, did I do this?”  He would never forgive himself if his actions had somehow hurt Louis or the baby, but the doctor was quick to quell his fears. 

“I know this seems scary, but I don’t want you to worry just yet.  Spotting is very common during pregnancy, and doesn’t necessarily indicate that there’s a problem.  In this case, it is likely just a result of overexertion.”  He turned his attention to Louis, forcing him to look into his eyes and see the sincerity there.  “It’s nothing to be concerned about, although I would recommend taking it a little easier from now on.  As for her lack of movement, babies get tired too.  You had an exciting day, and combined with the added strain of her contracting home, she probably just needed some rest as much as you did.”

Louis swallowed thickly, holding hostage the air in his lungs until he knew he could control its release.  “She’s okay?”  The doctor nodded, and Louis felt like he could finally breathe for the first time that night.  He was still hesitant in hoping that everything was alright – because honestly, when did anything in his life ever end up so completely in his favor – but the physician seemed genuine and sure.

“I want to do an ultrasound just to be on the safe side, but I have every reason to believe that both you and your baby are perfectly healthy.”

The instant the doctor was out of the room, presumably to retrieve the equipment required for the scan, Harry was all over Louis, eliciting a surprised giggle as he peppered every inch of his face, his neck, his chest with sweet and jubilant kisses.  When his mouth reached Louis’ tummy, he pressed his lips softly to the mound, his hands coming up to grasp it from the side.  Where before it had felt so firm in his grasp, now it seemed as beautifully delicate as stained glass.

“I was so scared,” Harry admitted, his forehead resting against Louis’ stomach.

“ _You_ were scared?” Louis sniffed in indignation.  “I was –“

But before they could argue about who had been more distraught over the situation, Harry’s lips were on his.  After only a moment’s hesitation, Louis leaned into the kiss, pressing himself up against Harry and tangling his fingers in his hair.  They weren’t acting out of romantic desire, exactly, but rather a desperate need to feel close and connected to each other as they rode out the storm of emotions crashing around them.  It was a short kiss, but its effects lingered and left them both panting and shaking and grasping greedily as they attempted to find solid ground again.

Dr. Mendosa was polite enough to give them a minute to collect themselves before beginning to set up the diagnostic machine.  “Now, you know the drill,” he said, gesturing for Louis to lie back and lift up his shirt.

The last of Louis’ reservations washed away when the sound of his daughter’s swift pulse filled the room and her little face lit up the grainy gray screen.  Seeing her kick and twist in time with movement he felt deep within his core always brought Louis comfort.  She felt closer; as real and tangible as she possibly could while still inside him.

“Lou –“

His name came out broken and strangled, and the smile on Louis’ face faltered when he saw the heavy tear tracks staining Harry’s cheeks.  “What is it?  Why- what’s wrong?”

Harry let out a wet laugh and shook his head, the motion causing the salty drops that had gathered at his chin to fall into his lap.  “N-nothing.  I just- I haven’t… I-I’ve never—“

And that’s when Louis realized…

Harry hadn’t been there.  He’d never been to a doctor’s appointment or heard her heartbeat or watched her squirm around in real time.  All he’d known of their daughter was the few previous scans Louis had presented to him and the occasional nudge against his palms, but now…  He was experiencing all these firsts at the same time, and all in the wake of both the happiest and most terrifying day of their lives so far.

Well.  No one could blame Harry for being a bit of an emotional wreck.

“Haz,” Louis cooed, squeezing Harry’s hand tighter and lifting up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“She’s so perfect,” Harry whispered breathily.

“Indeed she is,” Dr. Mendosa agreed, having completed taking his measurements and assessing the baby’s condition.  “Perfectly healthy.  You’re doing wonderfully, Louis.”  Louis smiled shyly at the compliment and Harry nuzzled into his neck, gently nipping at the skin behind his ear.  “You are free to be discharged, although I can request to keep you overnight if it would make you feel more at ease.”

Louis bit his lip.  “I think… well, can we stay?  Just for a little while?”  It’s not that he didn’t trust the doctor’s assessment, but he was still more than on edge and wanted to be able to get answers immediately should any other questions or problems arise.  Harry gave his hand a little squeeze to show his agreement.

Dr. Mendosa smiled kindly.  “Of course.  I’ll have nurse Kennedy formally admit you so that we can transfer you to a proper room and you can finally get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, his body seeming to crumple without the sharp stakes of terror and impending doom keeping him upright.  As soon as they were alone again, Louis was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I love you.  So much,” Harry whispered into the silence.

“Mmm,” Louis acknowledged, half-asleep already.  “Me too.  Thank you for tonight.”  The thought of him being alone, of having to keep himself together and be strong and think rationally through this whole thing without the support of a partner was almost enough to break him all over again.  But he wasn’t; he wasn’t alone, and would never have to be again.  “You take such good care of us.”

Harry didn’t outright deny this claim, but he couldn’t exactly agree with it either.  He felt a lot of things – pride, relief, and more love than he thought possible, but also helplessness and regret and crippling fear.  This was all so new to him, these roles of husband and caregiver and father, as well as all the emotions and responsibilities that came with them.  He had crammed several years’ worth of life changes into a matter of days, and embraced every bit of it gladly and with open arms.  But now he saw just how easily it could slip through his grasp and the magnitude of the stakes had him torn between wanting to chain himself to Louis’s side and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

It was all so overwhelming, which is why, when Louis was settled in for the night after having barely resurfaced for long enough to crawl into the small hospital bed, Harry planted a kiss at his temple and walked out into the corridor.  Much of their family had chosen to stay in town for the night, and no one would be awake for hours yet, and his trembling fingers made selecting the right name from his contacts list surprisingly difficult, but he was desperate to hear the comforting voice waiting for him at the other end of the line.

“Harry, love?”  Even Anne’s sleep-husked voice managed to exude a maternal concern. 

Unable to hold himself together any longer, Harry braced his back against the wall, sliding down to the floor and sobbing in the middle of the hallway.  His mother was frantic now, pleading with him to answer her questions about what was going on and where he was and who he was with.  “H-hospital,” was all he managed to get out before dropping the phone and burying his face into his bent knees.


	14. The Very Short Engagement

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the time he’d made the call, but by the time Anne arrived Harry’s head was pounding and his lungs were aching and his whole body was shaking either from prolonged contact with the cold floor or simply the emotional toll his day had taken on him.  She gathered him up in her arms and pulled him against her chest, resting her cheek on the top of his head as she rocked them gently back and forth.

“What happened, love?” she questioned when her boy’s breathing finally returned to normal and the shivering stopped.  She was trying to be patient, but given the circumstances of her arrival, her mind immediately feared the worst.  “Are Louis and the baby alright?”

Harry finally pulled back to look into his mother’s eyes, and—

Shit.  Her face held traces of all manner of horrible feelings – exhaustion, fear, concern, powerlessness – and it was all his fault.  Fuck, he’d dragged her here in a state of absolute chaos and then hadn’t had the courtesy to tell her a damn thing.  Yet another thing he’d handled poorly in the face of a crisis.

“I’m sorry, mum.  I- yes.  Louis and the baby are okay.”  Some of the worry lines smoothed from her forehead, but she was still waiting to hear how exactly they ended up here.  He was not quite sure himself, and blew out a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts.  “He just- he woke up with some Braxton Hicks contractions.”  Anne hummed in sympathy; she remembered those days all too well.  “And he said it was normal, but- but then there was blood, and she wasn’t moving, and we thought that maybe… maybe she—“

He couldn’t quite voice aloud their deepest concerns, but Anne understood.  “That must have given you both quite a fright,” she urged, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen into Harry’s eyes at his downcast expression.

“I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.  But then… then when we got here, and they told us everything was fine.  And it felt like… it- it was—“

“Like coming up for air?”  Harry looked into her eyes then and nodded, and she rubbed a hand gently up and down his back.

“I got to see her, mum.”  He smiled at the memory, able to recall every outline of her little nose and chin and fingers.  “She was so beautiful, and her little heart was beating so fast, and I just love her so much.  God, I would do anything to keep her safe,” he choked, once again on the verge of tears.

“But she _is_ safe,” she reminded him.

“But what if she wasn’t?  Mum, I don’t know how to do any of this!  Yesterday, I had no clue what Braxton Hicks were or what to do when they came.  I didn’t know that bleeding was normal.  I didn’t know… fucking _anything_!”

Anne considered the best way to go about explaining this to her son, but she figured candor and honesty were best.  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that feeling never really goes away.”  Harry’s eyes snapped to hers incredulously, as if asking _aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?_   “Darling, there’s no rule book for life.  Things are going to happen – things you never saw coming and that you will have no idea how to deal with.”

Harry groaned.  This was not exactly what he wanted to hear.  “So I just have to sit back and let life kick my ass?”

“Basically,” Anne chuckled.  “Doesn’t mean you can’t be as prepared as possible, though.”  Harry thought back to all the brochures and articles that were still lying untouched on various surfaces all over their house.  Well, he was sure as hell gonna look through them now.  “How is Louis handling all this?”

“Better than me, I think.  He’s sleeping now,” he said, nodding toward the closed door to his right.

Several moments passed and the creases between her son’s eyebrows had still not gone down.  “What’s still bothering you, love?”

Harry sighed.  “I just… I can’t help feeling like all of this is my fault.  I mean, I haven’t been there for him for most of this pregnancy.  And now I’ve moved into his living space, and I don’t have a job so he’s supporting us both, and then I kept him on his feet running around all day with the party and I’m sure that’s why we ended up here, and what if he only agreed to marry me in the first place because he feels like he has to, and—“

“Shh, shh, shh,” Anne tutted, refusing to indulge Harry’s insecurities.  “You know Louis loves you.  Sometimes these things just happen.”

“It’s just… he’s doing all the work.  He tries to pretend he’s fine, but I see he’s tired and hurting and so damn emotional, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”  He pulled at the roots of his hair in frustration.  “I just feel so helpless.”

“Just wait until you’re in the delivery room,” Anne said, only half-joking.  Harry looked up to glare at her, and she rolled her eyes affectionately.  “Every new phase of life requires a little getting used to, but you’ll find your balance.  I know you look at Louis like he hung the moon, but… you are just as amazing.  Just be there for him in whatever ways you can, in whatever ways he needs.  It’s all you can do, and it is enough.”

As they got up from the floor to sneak back into Louis’ room, Harry was again flooded with an overwhelming sense of guilt that he ever had to be in that bed in the first place.

“You did the right thing, love.  You took care of them the best way you knew how, and it all worked out.  Everyone’s happy and healthy.”  Anne kissed him on the cheek.  “You should be proud, papa.” 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut to fight the tears stinging behind them, and allowed himself to be comforted by her touch and her words.  Although still not entirely free from his pit of self-loathing, at least now he had a plan.

Be there for Louis.

He could do that.

After being released from the hospital with no further complications, Harry was absolutely determined to do everything in his power to make Louis’ life easier.  He cooked and cleaned and did laundry; he bought groceries and baby proofed the house and even drove Louis to work on the rare occasion that he still went into the office.  And in between, he spent every waking hour poring over baby books and blogs and talking to doctors and other parents, basically just consuming as much information as was within his grasp.  He refused to allow himself to again be so wholly unprepared to handle whatever situation might arise next.

This went on for about a month – nonstop since Harry no longer had the onus of a job – and Louis was starting to feel crowded in his own house.  But he did his best to bite back his irritation, knowing that Harry was only trying to help.

Despite his best efforts, he was still achy and hormonal and Louis had trouble reigning in his temper on a normal day, so he may have snapped one afternoon when he was taking half a second too long to push himself off the sofa and Harry was already on him, sprinting in from the other room and wrapping around his whole body and telling him how strong he was and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I am pregnant, not an invalid,” he yelled, slapping Harry’s hands away and scowling at him, “and I can get my own damn self off the couch!”  Harry honestly looked more hurt than a kicked puppy, but Louis crossed his arms over his chest, holding his ground.

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he looked to his feet.  “Okay,” he mumbled.  “I’ll… guess I’ll go start dinner.”

“ _I’ll_ make dinner tonight,” Louis huffed, already marching off in the direction of the kitchen.  “And don’t you dare try and help me,” he warned over his shoulder before his shadow trailed along behind him.

He didn’t really want to make dinner – it required standing and his back started to twinge after only a few minutes – but it was the principle of the thing.  Harry had been doing everything, literally everything, and Louis was done feeling weak and incapable.  So, he gathered the ingredients to one of the few dishes he had been able to make without almost burning down the house, spaghetti and meat sauce.

It took all his concentration not to screw up the simple recipe, so even though he heard Harry’s muffled voice calling to him from the other room periodically, he didn’t have the capacity to pay attention to both.  He had just tossed some ground beef into a hot pan when he heard an honest-to-god scream echo through the house.

“Harry!” Louis yelped, though with his pounding heart and breathless lungs it came out as barely more than a whisper.  He rushed into the living room, steeling himself to find a dismembered limb or severed artery at the very least.  But when he skidded to a halt, he found Harry simply perched in the chair and wearing a look of deep concentration.  “Harry, what—“  Louis began, about to chastise him for his lack of mortal injury when the cry sounded again.  He glanced over to the tv, the origin of the sound and the focal point of Harry’s gaze, and –“Holy fuck!”  Louis threw an arm over his eyes and spun around so fast that he got a little dizzy.  “Warn a guy first, yeah?”

As part of his self-imposed crash course in childbearing, Harry had read through every pamphlet Louis had received, and also flipped through the books Louis had purchased but never even bothered to open.  But when Louis had stalked off and banned him from the kitchen, he set to work cleaning and purging the living room of clutter and found a previously undiscovered educational aid.  Previously undiscovered, presumably, because Louis had purposely buried it, unopened, in the stacks of old magazines and research materials crowding the bookshelf after deciding that he could do without the graphic preview of his imminent future in the delivery room that was currently being displayed in painfully high definition in their living room.

“She’ll be here in a matter of weeks, love.  Don’t you think it’s time to see what we’re up against?”  Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly, unfazed by the death glare Louis now had trained on him.  Louis swallowed thickly, desperately trying not to glance in the direction of the whines and moans; Harry, on the other hand, was fixated on it.  “Do you think you’ll want a natural birth?” he mused, eyes glued to the screen.  He was now well versed in all their options, and the descriptions of all the meditation and breathing and underwater relaxation techniques available made the whole thing seem almost magical.

“God, no,” Louis snorted without hesitation.  “If I’m gonna have my ass on display to a room full of half a dozen strangers, I want to be high on whatever mind-altering drugs they gave to the person that ever said _that_ ,” he waved his hand in the general direction of the tv without actually looking at it, “was beautiful.”

 “Look, Lou, you can see the head!” Harry exclaimed, promptly ignoring Louis’ salty attitude and pointing to the screen excitedly with a huge grin on his face.

“I don’t want to see a head, unless it is yours and it is detached from your body,” Louis said through clenched teeth.

“Hm, the threats of bodily harm have already begun and you’re not even in labor yet.  This could get interesting.”  Harry turned back to him and waggled his eyebrows, still smiling sweetly.

Louis groaned and draped himself over the back of Harry’s chair, mumbling a soft, “I don’t want to think about this.”

Harry reached back and began carding his fingers through Louis’ feathery hair.  “I know.  But it’s happening whether you like it or not; might as well be as prepared as possible for it.”  This was his new motto for life, and so far it was doing well serving its purpose distracting against the nervousness that had been growing steadily the closer they got to bringing their little girl home.

“You sound like Liam,” he muttered into the fabric.

“Thank you.”  Harry took the comparison to the unflappable Liam as a compliment.  “Now, come here and watch this with me.” 

Harry had to practically drag Louis around the chair and anchor him to his lap, his arms acting like a seatbelt securing him in place.  Louis stole a few glances at the images on the telly, but for the most part he kept his face buried in Harry’s neck like they were watching some gruesome horror movie.  And, in his mind, they kind of were.

For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the wailing cries of the laboring man that, for some reason unfathomable to Louis, had agreed to have this whole disgusting process filmed and distributed to expecting parents across the country.

“Lou, look,” Harry said, nudging Louis’ shoulder until he raised his head. 

Louis chanced a look up and was about to whine in protest when he saw the newborn slide into the doctor’s arms and suddenly there was crying.  The baby was crying, the parents were crying, and god even Harry was sniffling behind him, but the whole thing just made Louis nauseous.  He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, when the smoke alarm suddenly reminded him of the half-prepared meal he’d abandoned in the kitchen.

“Damnit!”  Louis leapt out of Harry’s grasp and raced toward the kitchen, but it was too late.  The meat was black, the noodles were sticking out of the pot half uncooked, and even the sauce had evaporated into a pulpy mess.  It was enough to bring his simmering tears to the surface, even as Harry’s comforting arms wrapped around him from behind.

“It’s okay, love.”

“No it fucking isn’t!”  This is what he had been trying to tell people for months!  He was soon going to be responsible for another person’s whole _life_ – their hygiene and education and growth and entertainment – and he couldn’t even manage to cook a fucking meal.  Louis had never felt more inadequate.

Harry tried to spin Louis around to face him, but he remained firmly planted in the opposite direction.  He wasn’t sure why the ruined food was upsetting Louis so much – he’d always been perfectly content to be on a first name basis with the nearby takeaway spots – but attempted to take some of the blame anyway.  “It’s my fault; I distracted you.”

“It’s not—“  Louis took a calming breath.  “It’s not about the food.”  He finally turned around and rested his forehead against Harry’s chest.  “You do _everything,_ Harry.”

Harry was at a bit of a loss; attending to Louis’ every need was the very least he could do to contribute, but Louis made it sound like a bad thing.  “Do you, like… do you want to do more stuff around the house?” he asked, remembering Louis’ earlier outburst in defense of his independence.

“No.”  He most certainly didn’t, if the straining muscles in his hips and thighs were anything to go by.  “It’s just- I know I’m not as fast or flexible as I used to be, but I don’t need someone to wipe my own ass for me, yeah?” 

There was one unfortunate time where that was not true, but Harry had the good sense not to bring it up.  “I’m sorry, I- I’ll…”  He still wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was doing wrong, so he didn’t know how exactly how to fix it.

 At Harry’s lost look, Louis sighed.  He knew the real reason Harry’s sweet and over attentive mothering bothered him, and it wasn’t because he harbored a deep longing to fold laundry and wash dishes.  “I love how you take care of me, Haz, really.  It’s just, like, when you do everything for me, it’s like you’re saying I can’t do anything for myself.”

“But I don’t—“

Louis held up a hand to silence him.  “I know.  I know you don’t think that.  But… well, it took me a long time to convince myself that I had it in me to raise a child.  And now you’re here, and it’s great, but, like… you stay up late reading parenting books, and you research the best schools.  You sing and talk to her and love her so much already, I just…”   Louis cringed as he clenched the fabric of Harry’s shirt in a tight fist.  “I can’t even watch the stupid birthing video.”  He hung his head then, his next words confessed on little more than an exhale.  “Makes me feel like a bad dad.”

Harry tightened his grip around the man in his arms.  “No, Lou.  You- you’re such a good papa, taking such good care of her already.”  He felt Louis shake his head, and it absolutely broke his heart.

“I mean, I don’t know what type of bottles to get or what carseat is the safest.  I’ll never be able to make perfect chocolate chip cookies and The Wiggles freak me the hell out.  I don’t… I—”  Louis shook as he dissolved into fitful sobs, embarrassed by his own weakness but unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth.  “I won’t know how to love her like you do.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say, how to make Louis see the things Harry saw in him, but he was beyond relieved that Louis was actually talking to him, telling him what was bothering him instead of pulling away, brushing it off and pretending he was fine.  It was so different than it used to be, and for once Harry was actually grateful for the time they spent apart.  “Can I tell you a secret?” he finally asked.

Louis pulled away then, looking up with wary interest.  “What secret?”

Harry squeezed his shoulders and offered a sheepish grin.  “You remember the day we met?”  Louis nodded hesitantly.  “Well I didn’t… it wasn’t exactly, like, an accident that I ran into you.”

At this, Louis quirked an eyebrow.  “You purposely ruined your favorite shirt when I tripped and spilled my drink?”  They both knew it was entirely Louis’ fault, and it had Harry shaking his head with a laugh.

“Well, no; the collision was definitely not part of the plan.  And anyway, that shirt only became my favorite because it was the one I met the love of my life in.”  Harry ran a thumb across Louis’ quickly reddening cheeks.  “But I worked across the street at the time, and I’d seen you get your coffee there every Friday morning at 7:30 like clockwork.  And it was always the highlight of my week.”

“So you were stalking me,” he teased with a sniffle, the cause of his tears quickly being forgotten.

 “I know a good thing when I see it.”  Harry shrugged, unapologetic.  “You were the most goddamn beautiful person I’d ever seen – still are, by the way – and it took me weeks to build up the courage… but finally, I just walked over there, knowing you’d be there.”

“Wait, you said you worked on that street?  But… on our second date you said you didn’t have a job?”  They both considered that first run-in (literally) as their first date, as they ended up spending almost the entire day together, just talking.  But it was only the following night that they went out again, and Louis specifically remembered him mentioning his unemployed status because it was the same night he waxed on and on about his dream of owning a bakery but not having any way to put up the initial cash to start a business, and Louis was so moved by his vision that he decided he had to be Harry’s first investor, and… well, the rest was history.

Now it was Harry’s turn to blush and scratch at the back of his neck.  “Well, yeah.  No, I did have a job the day we met and was working that morning, but –“  He let out an embarrassed chuckle.  “But, well, I guess you can’t just walk out of work in the middle of the morning rush and then never come back because you would rather spend your time getting to know the most amazing man on the planet and expect to… well, to not be fired.”

Louis’ mouth hung open.  Honestly, he was flabbergasted.  “You- you just… you were working.  Like, you had a job and you were working and you just- you left?  Because… because you wanted to _talk_ _to me_?”  Harry nodded and Louis felt simultaneously like he was flying and falling.  Harry had literally risked his entire future, leaving behind a sure thing – safety, security, stability – just on the off chance that he might hit it off with someone he’d never even actually met face-to-face.  It was both incredibly stupid and incredibly romantic, and again Louis didn’t know how he possibly deserved this kind of affection.  “Why?”

Harry paused for a moment, his eyes squinting in concentration as he attempted to put make tangible the reasons he had acted so recklessly that day.  “Because the first time you walked by, it was raining and you offered a man your umbrella and ended up getting soaked.  And another time a woman was crying and you sat with her until she was okay.  And still another time you tripped over a dog and immediately knelt down to apologize to it; you had the most guilty look on your face.”  Louis shook his head; he couldn’t remember any of these specific instances.  “I could tell you were special,” he said.  “I wasn’t wrong.”

Louis swallowed thickly, again struggling to recall why he had been so upset before.  Oh, right – Harry was a sweet, considerate, goddamn myth of a human being and Louis had yelled at him for _helping_ too much.  Ugh.  “What does this have to do with anything?”

Harry leaned down so that he was at eye level with Louis; his eyes were intense but his smile was soft.  “Louis, your first instinct has always been to love first, care first, help others first.  You were made for this.  It comes naturally to you – always has – and it’ll be the same for our little girl.  And everything that I’m doing – all the reading and researching and obsessing?  Well… I’m just trying to catch up.”

Louis blinked back tears, simply staring up at Harry with wide eyes; the look he was giving him was so openly adoring that it wasn’t long before Louis had to glance away, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I don’t deserve you.”  He wasn’t even sure he’d said the words loud enough to hear, but Harry pulled him tightly against his chest, trailing his fingertips lightly up and down his back.  “I don’t- you’re too… god, you’ve always been too good for me.”  It was easier for him to confess the thought aloud with his face tucked and buried to where the guilt and shame written on it couldn’t be seen.

Harry’s comforting strokes stopped and he wanted to scream in frustration.  He fit his large hands around the curves of Louis’ neck, his thumbs insistently nudging his chin upward until their eyes finally met.  Louis was surprised to find Harry’s eyes squinting down in desperate concern and rapidly filling with moisture as well.  “We are a _team,_ Lou.  Better together than either one of us would be on our own.  How- how can I convince you that I’m not going anywhere?  That you are worth every second of time and attention I have?  That I fall deeper in love with you every single day and in a thousand different ways I didn’t even know someone could be loved?”  He leaned down to press his forehead against Louis’ and closed his eyes.  “Tell me, Louis.”

 It was several moments before Louis could speak again.  “I mean, marrying me would be a good start…” he said with a breathless chuckle, having already been promised as much.  Harry was quiet, and for a moment Louis was irrationally panicked that he had somehow changed his mind about wanting to spend the rest of his life with him.

“Okay,” Harry finally said.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s get married.”

Louis pulled away to look into Harry’s eyes, but there was no sarcasm there.  “Wasn’t that kind of the point of the whole ring and family and cake and mortgage-payment-worth of roses thing?”

“No, I mean let’s get married as soon as possible.  Right now, if you want.”  Louis opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out and Harry began to wonder whether Louis’ hesitation went beyond just surprise.  “Unless… I mean, I know we’ve only been engaged for a few weeks.  I don’t- we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”  Harry was again reminded of just how fast everything was moving, and did not want to push Louis into the same kind of breakdown he’d had during their night at the hospital.

“I—“ Louis stuttered.  His heart had begun to race, set at a grueling pace by the possibility that the perfect family he’d always imagined for his child was actually within reach.  Despite the fact that he was due in less than three weeks, and that his large and bloated body would look horrible in a tux, and that there was no way all their friends and family would be available on such short notice… Yes, he wanted that more than anything.  But… “What about your dream wedding?  I-I want you to have everything you want too.”

Harry’s answering smile was dazzling.  “Love,” he started, placing one hand on Louis’ cheek and the other on his tummy and continuing as if his next observation were the most obvious thing in the world, “you’ve already given me everything I could ever want.  Let me do the same for you.”

He looked deeply into Harry’s eyes, studying his face for any hint of reservation but all he found was sincerity and maybe even a little eagerness.  “Okay.  Let’s… let’s get married.”


	15. The Wedding

Despite Harry’s insistence that they could drive to the nearest courthouse and get married that very minute, Louis at least wanted to have a little pomp and circumstance.  It was his wedding, after all.  However, that also meant that the next ten days were some of the most stressful of their lives.  As it turned out, there were a thousand little details and decisions that needed to be made even for an impromptu wedding.

Fortunately, Harry had amassed a large number of special occasion venue contacts during his years at the bakery, making an otherwise impossible task only extraordinarily difficult.  With Louis’ due date fast approaching, they picked the first weekend that all the essential attendees (i.e., Lottie, Anne, Gemma, Liam, and Niall) were available.  Liam even volunteered to officiate the ceremony – a fact which made Louis want to both mock him and kiss him; how and when Liam came to possess the legal authority to do this, however, remained a mystery (though Niall promised to get it out of him and relay the information later).  They also sent mass invites to coworkers and neighbors and extended family without pressure or expectation, and were delighted that at least a few dozen had accepted.  Thanks to online shopping, some of them had even managed to send gifts to the house – a fact which, though Louis was grateful and would never admit it, just made their small mothership of activity even more chaotic and stress-inducing.

Due to a last minute cancellation, Harry was able to arrange for the ceremony to take place at the botanical gardens just half an hour from their house.  Its indoor floral displays were blooming and beautiful year-round, so they wouldn’t have to import an exorbitant amount of extra flowers, and the glass walls would give it the feel of an outdoor wedding without having to actually brave the late-autumn England air.  They decided to serve some light appetizers and cake for the guests that had been kind enough to agree to come on such short notice, then bring just close family and friends back to the house for an intimate dinner afterward.  They would have to end up hand-making some of the decorations and personalized items, but all in all they wouldn’t have been able to do a much better job with a year’s worth of planning.

Despite Harry bearing the brunt of the effort, Louis’ overly taxed mind and body were constantly being pushed to his limit.  He had been having Braxton Hicks contractions almost nonstop throughout the process, and twice they were even severe enough to send them to the hospital in a panic.  The doctor assured them that his body showed no signs of impending labor and that first babies were usually overdue anyway, but that did little to keep their worries at bay.

When the eve of the wedding finally arrived – the big day finally within sight, and then they could finally just focus on being a family together – Harry would have thought Louis would be able to lighten up just a little bit.

He really should have known better.

Gemma, Niall, and Liam had all been staying at the house for several days, with Lottie and Anne having joined just the night before.  All the rooms were stuffed with people and clothes and gifts and half-made favors.  It was all far too crowded and noisy and hectic, and it put Louis on edge about absolutely everything.  Eventually, he screamed that someone would have to get out of his fucking house or else he might accidentally end up murdering his betrothed and then there would be no fucking wedding anyway!

Only slightly afraid of his fiancé, Harry gracefully took the opportunity to honor the tradition of not seeing your partner before the wedding, opting to stay in a hotel close to where the ceremony would be held and dragging Liam, Gemma, and Lottie with him.  This left Louis alone with just Anne and Niall, whom Harry deemed most calm and least likely grate on Louis’ nerves.

As much as Louis complained about not being able to rest with all the people in the house – or with Harry’s hot, gangly body wrapping around him all night – it turned out that he _really_ couldn’t without them.  He missed the quiet hum of conversation that would distract him from all the anxiety and thoughts of everything that could and probably would go wrong.  He missed his sister nagging him about doing too much and not sitting down enough.  He even missed the tiny noises and movements that Harry made next to him that kept him calm even when sweet dreams eluded him.

Louis sighed.

_Just a few more hours._

His full-term belly was uncomfortable no matter what position he slept in with no matter how many pillows.  It was about 2 a.m. and three hundred trips to the bathroom later that Louis decided he was not going to get any sleep.  He snuck downstairs, careful not to wake his guests – who had been up until the wee hours of the morning trying to get as much done as possible without the extra hands that had previously been there – and puttered around the kitchen, finishing up some more of the last minute details to make it easier on everyone else in the morning because, well, it was his own fault the extra hands had left in the first place.

By 5 a.m. his back was positively screaming at him, so he waddled over to the couch and gently lowered himself down to a seated position.  He was achy and exhausted and so fucking _pregnant_ , but in a few hours he’d be married, and then in a few days they’d have a baby, and he could do this.  He could totally do this.

An hour later, the tension in his back had only gotten worse and the faux contractions came back with a vengeance.  Because of course they did.  “Mmm, not now,” Louis begged, rubbing gentle circles around his stomach as if that would soothe his over-eager body.  He should drink some water and walk around to ease those pains, but he just didn’t have the energy.  It would probably cause him more pain later, but for now he was comfortable/exhausted enough to doze in his current position, and he took advantage of it.

It was light outside when Louis felt a gentle nudging of his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Anne gazing at him sweetly.  Once his eyes were fully open, she took a seat beside him on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  “What are you doing down here, my love?”

“Couldn’t sleep.  Decided to –“ Louis paused to yawn before continuing, “finish putting together the rest of the centerpieces and decorations and –”  He was cut off by another yawn, but waved in the general direction of the kitchen to continue his point.

Anne glanced over at the neat little bundles on the table and countertop, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she turned back to her soon-to-be son-in-law.  “My, my, you have been busy!  I don’t know how you have the energy.  By the time I was ready to pop, I was barely able to get up out of bed.”

Louis hummed in agreement.  “Yeah, I’m payin’ for it now, though,” he said with a wince, trying and failing to adequately stretch the rigid muscles of his lower back.

Anne smiled sympathetically, and added the pressure of her hands to his back.  “Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed, noting just how tightly he was wound.  “Go, go get some rest upstairs.  Niall and I will take care of the rest of the preparations down here and then we’ll go fetch you in a bit.”

Louis tried to go back to sleep, he really did.  He heard the hustle and bustle of activity outside his door and felt guilty for not helping more, but he just kept feeling worse and worse and god, this was so not the day for his body to give out on him.  When Niall came in to ‘wake him up’ at around 10, Louis was practically in tears, both from pain and frustration.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, buddy?  Nothin’ but happy tears today, yeah?”  Niall sat on the edge of the bed, but Louis practically yanked him on top of him like a second blanket.

“I just… I need to get married today.”

Niall pulled away to cock an eyebrow at him.  “Isn’t that the plan?”

Louis let out a derisive snort.  “Not if I can’t get out of this fucking bed.”  Niall rolled his eyes, offering a hand to his best friend.  With great effort on both their parts, Louis got to a seated position; they rested there a moment before working together to hoist him up to his feet.  “Fuck,” Louis hissed upon standing, gravity already irritating his straining back.  As soon as he thought he’d found equilibrium, his whole midsection seemed to seize up, causing him to groan in discomfort.

Niall’s hands fluttered uselessly around Louis’ hunched form.  “Hey, you sure you’re alright?”

Louis nodded, but it was like the wind had gotten knocked out of him and it took a minute before he could speak.  “C-can you get me some water?” he finally asked.

“Sure.  Yeah, o’course.”  Ready to attend to all of Louis’ needs on his wedding day, Niall rushed off to fulfill the request. 

What Louis really needed was to get these contractions to stop; which meant he needed to drink fluids and he needed to move.  Both his bladder and his back protested the idea, but he still found himself chugging the liquid and pacing around the room while Niall busied himself with getting dressed and laying out Louis’ clothes.

“You sure you’re okay?” Niall asked for the thousandth time, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as Louis huffed and puffed around the room, no closer to being ready than he had been an hour earlier.

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic, Niall.  And I can get my own self dressed, thank you very much; I do have _some_ dignity.”

“Fine, fine,” Niall said, holding his hands up in surrender.  “But I’ll be wantin’ an apology when you go trying to tie your shoes there, mate.” 

Louis would have felt guilty – in all honesty, he couldn’t actually reach down to tie his own fucking laces anymore – but his words were delivered with a lighthearted wink and quick cackle before he left the room, and this- this was why Harry had chosen Niall to stay.

Finally left alone, and after only briefly bemoaning the fact that the short walk back and forth across the room had him winded and sweating, Louis decided to get some fresh air.  Niall was helping Anne prepare some snacks in the kitchen, and wisely kept his mouth shut as Louis trudged by still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to bed.

The early November breeze was cool and crisp as Louis sat in one of the chairs that were set up for the small family reception that would be held in the secluded backyard.  He looked around at the hanging lanterns and artfully arranged bouquets and smiled.  It may have been last minute, but it was perfect. 

_Or at least it would have been_ , Louis thought as another pain, worse than the last one, clenched his stomach in an iron grip.  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through it, causing the moisture that had collected in the corners of his eyes to fall down his cheeks as he finally admitted to himself that no, these were probably not Braxton Hicks.  Which meant he was probably going into labor.  Which meant he would probably not be getting married that evening.

In that moment, Louis didn’t know which emotion to feel first.  He was panicked and afraid at the prospect of giving birth.  And he was definitely sad and maybe a little angry about not being able to marry the love of his life that day.  But he was also overjoyed that he would be getting to meet his daughter in just a few short hours.

In short, Louis was overwhelmed, and he let himself get swept this way and that by the fickle, endless waves of emotion until all he felt was tired.

“My love, it’s time to start getting –“  Anne paused when she stepped in front of Louis, taking in his hunched and quietly sobbing form.  “Shh, shh, it’s alright,” she soothed, taking a seat beside him and running a hand up and down his back.  “What’s wrong?  What can I do?”

“Harry.”

“Oh, what did my boy do now?” she joked, trying to lift his spirits… and realizing she failed when Louis’ hopeless, devastated gaze fell upon her.

“Please.  Can he- can you get him here?  I- I need him.”

He was going to be arriving in a couple hours, but Anne knew better than to contradict him.  He was obviously troubled, and whatever it was could only be eased by whatever comfort her son could provide.  “Alright.  Alright, he’ll be here in no time.  Do you want me to stay with you until he gets here?”  Louis shook his head and she gave his knee a reassuring squeeze before getting up to make the call.

Upon hearing of Louis’ distress, Harry raced out of the hotel, only half dressed for the occasion.  Gemma threw the rest of his needed items in the car for him to finish getting ready over there, but that was the least of his worries.  He’d thought giving Louis some space would be good for him, but apparently he’d severely miscalculated.

Harry ran into the house, his bottom half fully dressed in shiny shoes and trousers, while his upper body still wore only a grey hoodie and a mass of bed hair.  Anne pointed toward the backyard, and he easily spotted Louis’ small frame curled up in one of the chairs.

“Louis?  What’s wrong, baby?”  He occupied the seat that Anne had vacated earlier and took Louis’ hand in one of his, using the other to curl around his neck and swipe at the tears that had gathered at the base of his jaw.  “Talk to me,” he pleaded again.

“I think- I don’t- I can’t-“  Louis started several times, but each was cut off by a gasp that threatened to turn into a full-on sob.  When he still couldn’t get the words out after several moments, Harry pulled him into his lap.  “We can’t get married today,” Louis finally wailed, falling against Harry’s chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

Harry stiffened; this was not what he had been expecting.  “You’re… having second thoughts?”  He wanted to believe this wouldn’t happen, but honestly he wasn’t surprised.  In the beginning it had taken Louis months to admit that they were even in a relationship, so getting married after only being engaged for a few weeks was insane.  Harry was brought out of his sulking when Louis swatted him on the arm.

“Of course not, dumbass.  God, I would do anything to just be fucking married to you already.”  Louis didn’t mean for the words to come out so harsh, but the question was the exact opposite of his current problem and therefore preposterous.

“I don’t- what are you saying then?”  Louis didn’t speak up right away, leaving Harry’s mind racing with all possible worst-case scenarios.  “Louis, if you’re not ready, just say so.  I know this was fast.  I don’t want you to regret –“

He was cut off by Louis’ fingers pressing into his lips.  “Please don’t say that.  Don’t think for one second that I don’t want this.  I want you with all my heart.  I want to spend every day of the rest of my life by your side.  I can’t… I need you to know that.  Do you believe me?”

Harry nodded and Louis removed his hand, allowing Harry to speak again.  “Then why can’t we get married?”

Louis sighed.  “It’s not that we can’t get married; we just can’t get married _today_.”  At Harry’s questioning look, he finally had to admit the truth.  “I don’t- I don’t think she’ll wait that long.” As if on cue, another strong contraction wound its way around Louis’ stomach; he clutched at the thick fabric of Harry’s shirt with one hand and pressed the other into the tightening wall of his abdomen, blowing out forceful puffs of air in an attempt to stay on top of the pain.

When his muscles finally unclenched and his breathing returned to normal, Louis realized that Harry also had a hand on his tummy.  When he looked up into his eyes, they were wide and sparkled with barely contained emotion.

“You’re in labor.”  It wasn’t a question, but Louis nodded anyway.  “We’re having a baby today.”  Harry was laughing, and hugged Louis tighter against him, nuzzling his face into his hair.

“We’re _supposed_ to be getting married today,” Louis sighed wistfully, though Harry’s excitement was lightening his disappointment.  Marginally.

Harry contemplated their predicament for a moment.  “Why can’t we?”  He honestly wouldn’t have minded waiting, but he knew how important this was to Louis.  “Why can’t we still get married today?” 

Louis pulled back to give him a look.  “How about the fact that they won’t even start setting up our room for another four hours, to start?”

Harry was undeterred.  “Everything here is pretty much already set up,” he said, looking pointedly around at the elaborately decorated backyard.  Louis looked like he wanted to protest, but Harry continued before he could say anything.  “Seriously, Lou.  The yard looks incredible.  Everyone we really wanted to be there is already here.”  Louis was still pouting a bit, and Harry leaned down to press brush his lips against his temple.  “I know the gardens would have been beautiful, but… well, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together here.  I must admit I rather like the idea off beginning them here as well.”

Louis wanted to roll his eyes at the overly sappy romantic sentiment, but damn if it wasn’t just the most romantic thing he could’ve said in that moment.  “Really?  We can… you think we can do that?”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s our wedding.  We can do whatever the fuck we want!”  At this, Louis laughed in earnest, melting into Harry’s waiting arms. 

They spent several minutes just holding each other, both hands resting lovingly around Louis’ belly and all but forgetting about the urgency of the situation until another contraction interrupted their sweet moment.  “Fuck.”  Again, Louis burrowed into his fiancé, feeling safe and comforted by his presence and words of affirmation until the pressure eased.  “Guess we’d better kick this into high gear.”

Harry offered to carry Louis back into the house, but he preferred to walk, having been slouched in that chair for far too long.  When they crossed the threshold, all activity ceased as expectant gazes fell upon the couple.

Anne looked at Harry worriedly, and he gave her a small smile of reassurance.  “Ehm, so I know this wedding was already kind of short notice, but… it’s going to have to be a little shorter.”

“What are you on about?” Gemma called from the living room; she, Liam, and Lottie must have arrived at some point while Harry was outside with Louis.

“Well, we very much want to be married before our daughter arrives, and seeing as how Louis is currently in labor, we would prefer to start the ceremony sooner rather than later.”

There was a moment of jaw-dropped silence before absolute chaos ensued.  Everyone flocked to them, asking a billion questions while simultaneously putting their wedding prep into overdrive.  They quickly switched gears and used every inch of lace and pearl that had been waiting to be transported to the venue to instead transform the outdoor space into an even more matrimonial setting.  Every minute that slipped by, though, was another minute closer to his daughter’s arrival, and when the last contraction had Louis actually yelping in pain, he’d decided he’d had enough.  Ready or not, they were getting married right that fucking second.

They had pushed the table and chairs to the side to create a sort of aisle, and Liam scurried down the path to stand at the center of the opening, which happened to be framed nicely by two ash trees that were themselves adorned with a surprising amount of bright fall foliage.  Anne and Gemma quickly followed to form a line to his right, while Niall and Lottie took places to his left.

Pachabel’s Canon was tinny and blasted through a portable Bluetooth speaker, Louis’ tie was still buried somewhere in the mess of fabric bunched up on his bed, only half the twinkling overhead lights actually turned on, and they had to pause for about 30 seconds at the end of the aisle to wait through another contraction, but as Harry and Louis linked arms and took those few careful steps to declare their love for each other against all odds and in front of the people that mattered most to them in the world, to them it was perfect.

Liam looked toward the sky and blew out several quick breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.  He had a job to do.  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two—“

“I think we can skip the formalities here, Li,” Louis stage-whispered through gritted teeth.  He could count on one hand the number of minutes between contractions, and he really didn’t want to give birth in the fucking grass.

“Right.  Right, uh…”  Liam cleared his throat, having to re-organize his inner monologue to accommodate the condensed timeframe.  “Well, all those gathered here have borne witness to the great love between Louis and Harry.  We could spend hours recounting the many joys and trials that have led up to this moment, but who better than the grooms themselves?  Harry, would you like to begin thevows?”

Harry turned to face Louis, and just like it always was when they leaned in close like this, it was like they were the only two people in the world.  “Louis Tomlinson,” he began, already smiling over the fact that that would be the last time he would be called by that surname, “over the past few years, I have been lucky enough to experience every part of you.  The hungry you that somehow just amplifies your sassiness.  The sleepy you that mumbles nonsense and steals all the covers.”  Louis stuck his tongue out like a child, and god even that was adorable.  “But from this moment on, I vow to spend the rest of my life ensuring that you’re the happy you – the one where you smile so big that your eyes almost disappear.”  That very smile broke out across his face, and Harry couldn’t resist reaching out to swipe at the wetness gathering in the creases it formed.  “I love you, Louis, and I have from the first moment I met you.  And while I haven’t known about our daughter for very long, I have loved her since the moment I met you too, because when I met you I knew that I would love every part of the life I would get to share with you.  My love, just looking at you, being next to you, even thinking about you fills my heart with so much joy that at the end of each day I am convinced that there is no possible way I could love you any more.  And each day you prove me wrong.”  He leaned in closer, as if revealing a secret.  “And I will gladly spend the rest of my life being wrong about that.”

Louis let out a wet laugh as Harry finally slipped that gold band onto his finger; only he could get away with being endearingly self-deprecating in the middle of heartfelt wedding vows.  He took a moment to admire the way the metal complemented and sparkled against his tanned skin; at how it already felt like a part of him, like a piece of himself that he hadn’t realized had been missing.  It was like that with Harry, too, in Louis’ life.

Louis retrieved the paper on which he’d written his thoughts from his pocket.  He never hoped to be as charming as Harry, but figured a script was probably better than whatever his unfiltered brain could come up with in the moment.  He took in a shaky breath, looking up into Harry’s encouraging smile once more before gathering the strength to begin.

“Harry, I— _fuck_!”  Louis doubled over, clutching onto Harry’s forearms in what, under normal circumstances, would have been a sweet gesture.  Harry grabbed on just as tightly back, bending down to offer quiet assurances until the pain had passed enough for Louis to speak again.  When it did, he let out a breathless chuckle.  “Well, I’d written somewhere in this little speech about how you still continue to surprise me after all these years, but it appears our daughter has inherited that trait as well.  So… fuck it, I guess.  I was never very good with words anyway.”  Louis crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside.  “The long and short of it is, every good thing that’s happened to me is because of you.  You dragged my ass kicking and screaming into a better life, and you have no idea how fucking much I love you for it.  No idea.”  Louis paused, briefly considering that he shouldn’t be swearing so much in the middle of a largely religious ceremony, but Harry’s returning smile was warm and adoring like he was reciting fucking Shakespeare, so he wasn’t terribly concerned about it.  “Before I met you I didn’t even know my shit heart even knew how to love anymore, and I will gladly spend the rest of my life being wrong about _that,_ ” he said, echoing Harry’s conclusion.

As Louis slid the matching ring onto Harry’s finger, he was surprised to find his hand shaking as well, though now it was coming from a place of excitement rather than nerves.  Having been caught up in their own little private bubble, Louis was startled when Liam’s authoritative voice again boomed over them.

 “By the power vested in me, as well as the honor of the vows promised in love to each other, I pronounce you wholly bound in mind, body, and spirit.  You may now—”

Harry didn’t even wait for Liam to finish the invitation before he swooped in to give Louis a passionate kiss that had his knees weak for reasons entirely separate from the stabbing pressure in his pelvis.  Louis pulled away first, gasping when he felt a warm stream of wetness trickle down his legs accompanied by temporary relief from the crushing ache in his midsection.

Lottie, who had been standing directly behind Louis, was the first to notice and stepped beside him to place a hand on his shoulder.  “Is that—“  Her question fell away when Louis’ wide, panicked eyes shot to her face, then darted around as erratically as his heartbeat.

“Lou?”  The calm concern emanating from Harry’s quiet question would normally have been enough to rein in Louis’ rising hysteria, but his water breaking was literally like the bursting of a dam, releasing with it an equally powerful downward force between his hips. 

Maybe they should have just gotten married at the courthouse after all.

_Fuck_.


	16. The Birth

For all that time seemed to kindly slow down while they were getting through the ceremony, it was catching up with them now, at least in Louis’ mind.  He needed to go – _now_ – and everything seemed to be taking so much fucking time.  Changing into dry clothes.  Retrieving the hospital bag.  Finding keys and coats and wallets amidst the chaos left in the wake of the hurried wedding prep.  It was all taking too fucking long, and Louis was in too much fucking pain, and all he wanted to do was curl up in a fucking ball and cry.

So that’s what he did.

Everything was packed, and the only thing left was to load up the parents-to-be.  And that’s the exact moment that Harry realized he had already somehow managed to lose his newly acquired husband.

He went through the rooms downstairs first, but took the stairs two at a time when there was no trace of him there.  He was just finishing his second complete sweep of the upstairs when a small movement in the center of their bed caught his attention.

Harry shook his head as he entered the master bedroom, constantly amazed at how seamlessly Louis always managed to blend in with cozy fabrics.  “Louis?  Babe?  You ready to go?” he asked softly upon approaching the mass of blankets.  A steady stream of tears were leaking from Louis’ eyes, but it was like he didn’t even notice, his gaze distant and pained.  “Hey, what is it, love?”  Harry sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Louis flinched and recoiled.  Trying not to be too hurt by the rejection, Harry tried again to figure out what was wrong.  “Are you in pain?”

Louis wanted to scream that of course he was in fucking pain, but it wouldn’t have done any good.  It wouldn’t lessen his suffering, and would likely only increase Harry’s.  And he’d been so sweet and accommodating that Louis really didn’t want to inflict his wrath on him.  So instead he chose to simply continue suffering in silence.  Although it had been a while since he’d had to put it into practice, he was quite skilled at it, and was probably the only reason he survived his childhood.  (If only he could’ve learned hold his tongue just as much the rest of the time… well, then he probably wouldn’t have needed to suffer so much in the first place.)

Besides, that was only part of the problem.  Now that this was happening – their daughter was going to be here, soon, and there was no going back – the reality began to sink in.  And with it, the fear.  The universe was about to entrust him with the responsibility of feeding and bathing and transporting and fucking _parenting_ another human being, and he was suddenly very aware that he didn’t know a goddamn thing.  Like, if she cried, how would he know if she needed a nappy change or just to be soothed and rocked?  Was she was just hungry or… fuck, what if she was really sick?  Like, how would he _know_?  He wouldn’t.  And he was convinced that every choice he made would be the wrong one simply because his messed up brain would be the one making it.

So, instead of trying to explain the anxieties twisting their way around his thoughts, Louis just reached out and wrapped his hand around Harry’s, who immediately reached down with his other to sandwich Louis’ hand between both of his. 

At that moment another contraction gripped him, and it stabbed and squeezed and stung like a knife in his gut.  Louis had handled lots of different kinds of pain in his lifetime, but this was a special kind of torture.  It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.  It was relentless, driving, and ironically wearing down the strength and resolve it would take to make it through to the other side.

Once the steel band coiled around his stomach loosened, he dissolved into full-on sobs that had went beyond just the physical pain.  Louis had thought he was strong; in fact, he had prided himself on it in his youth.  But he was beginning to think that he wouldn’t survive this – who could?

Harry knelt down in front of the bed; he used one hand to brush away the tear tracks on Louis’ cheeks, the other still clinging tightly to his.  “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

Louis shook his head – surely Harry would regret the vows they’d just made if he knew the thoughts rolling around in his head – but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out anyway.  “I can’t—  I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Louis sniffled and swiped at his nose with the back of his hand.  “Any of it.  I’m not- I’m not fucking strong enough.  I can’t do it.  I’m such a shit parent that I won’t even be able to get her out of me!”

“Louis –“

“I’m going to mess her up, I know I am.  I’ve probably already messed her up – fuck, I was so focused on what I wanted today that I’m not even at the fucking _hospital_ right now – and now the universe is punishing me.”

“Lou –“

“Fuck, Haz!  You take her.  Just take her and move to France like you wanted and become a famous pastry chef and then you can have lots of babies with some hot Gucci model and –“

Louis’ ramblings were cut off by Harry’s lips on his.  “Shh, my love.  I know you’re scared.  I am too.”

Louis paused long enough to read Harry’s expression, his lips turning down in a pout.  “Really?  Because you look calm as shit.”

Harry grinned; Louis was not the only one who could put on a brave face when their loved ones needed them to.  “Well I am.  But, like, the good kind of scared.  Like when you get lost in the streets of a foreign city.”  Louis smiled, remembering their trip to Sorrento where they got completely separated from the tour group, but ended up spending four hours eating and kissing and chatting at this amazing restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean.  “I’ve never done any of this before either.  And I’m sure we’ll both make mistakes, but… Louis, there are a lot of reasons to be afraid – hell, you’ve lived through most of them.  But this?  You not being… _enough_ for our child?  That’s bullshit.” 

Louis had taken to pulling at a loose thread in the design of the quilt that was crumpled beneath him.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and softly asked, “Promise?”

By now, they both understood that this was Louis’ way of asking whether he should believe Harry’s truth over whatever the doubts in the back of his mind were screaming at him in his moment of weakness.

Harry hooked a finger under Louis’ chin and waited until Louis’ gaze found his – he needed to see the unwavering certainty there.  “Promise.”  

Louis gave one definitive nod – effectively telling the voices in his head they could fuck off – before rolling on his back to start the process of getting up.  “Fuckin’ hell!”  Another contraction hit him as soon as his belly was up in the air and everything was ten times worse in this position – the strain on his lower back, the shortness of breath in his compressed lungs, the pressure between his legs.  He clung to Harry for dear life, his back and bum arching up until he was practically more off the bed than on it.  “We need to… fuck, we should probably get going now, yeah?” he finally panted.

Harry nodded, wide-eyed and a little rattled by this latest display (which, oddly enough, made Louis feel the slightest bit better, to not be the only one freaking out).  This time, Louis allowed Harry to scoop him up in his arms and carry him bridal style.  It did fit the occasion, after all.

Anne drove while Harry held Louis in the back seat.  His contractions were only a few minutes apart now, and Harry was beginning to wonder whether they’d even make it to the hospital in time.  Luckily, Liam had called ahead and there was a nurse awaiting them with a wheelchair as soon as they pulled up.  They quickly carted him up to the maternity floor where there was a flurry of activity as the nurses dressed him in a hospital gown and hooked him up to various monitors.

Louis watched all of this happening around him numbly, simply doing what he was told as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that this was really happening.  He had held himself together fairly well in the car, but broke down again when the nurse came in to perform her exam and informed them that he was already too far along in his labor to receive an epidural.

“I can’t.  It’s too much, Haz,” he whimpered into Harry’s shoulder as he held him. 

Harry shushed him, drawing soothing lines up and down his back.  “Of course you can.  You already are.  Just means she’ll be here even sooner.”  He kissed the top of Louis’ head and hugged him closer.  “So soon, baby.”

It was all of ten minutes before Louis couldn’t stand it anymore.  Their whole wedding party had taken up real estate in his room, and every time Louis moved or made a sound – or even if he stayed perfectly quiet but those damn machines gave away when a contraction was building – he was suddenly the center of attention.  Someone would squeeze his hand or rub his back or tell him how brave and strong he was, and he knew they meant well, but… fuck if it didn’t just grate on his last nerve.

“Get out!  Get the fuck out!” he screamed, silencing all the lighthearted conversation going on around him.  All eyes turned on him, but just as he was about to say more, the machine beside the bed was kind enough to warn him that another contraction was building.  “Damn it all to hell,” he ground out between clenched teeth.  “Out- get out of my room,” he demanded again before anyone could come console him or comfort him or whatever the fuck they believed they were doing when they invaded his personal space.  “You too, Harry,” he added before his husband could exclude himself from the request.

Harry’s eyes went wide.  “What?  You don’t mean that.”

Louis snorted.  People kept coming in to poke and prod him and he was hooked up to too many pieces of equipment and the bed rails might as well have been prison bars and there were _too many_ _fucking people_ around.  He felt like a zoo animal – trapped and constantly being watched.  “I do.  Fuck, I really do.”

Harry’s gaze flicked to the monitor, and once he saw the downward slope signaling the end of the contraction he approached the bed hesitantly.  “Do you really want me to leave, Lou?” 

Louis released a heavy sigh.  He was deeply frustrated and already more exhausted than he’d ever been; he leaned back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, but still the moisture escaped and trickled down his temples and into his hair.  “I don’t- fuck, I don’t know.  I just… can you- can I have a minute?”

Harry bit his lip, unsure what to do.  He wanted to give Louis whatever he needed to help him through this, but he also didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone in this state.  Before he could decide, Lottie came up to stand beside them, giving his forearm a little squeeze.

“It’s okay, Harry.  Go grab some coffee or something.  I’ll stay with him.”  Harry looked warily at Louis, who was still shielding himself from all the eyes trained on him.  She bent down and whispered something only he could hear, to which he gave the smallest of nods.  Lottie gave a thumbs up and Harry let out a relieved sigh, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ while he ushered the rest of occupants out of the room.

Anne was completely understanding about Louis’ need for separation.  Gemma, however, was downright offended, only to be appeased by Harry promising her first holding rights as soon as visitors were allowed back in the room.  Niall simply shrugged, as usual taking everything in stride, and Liam – ever the practical one – volunteered to head over to the botanical gardens to deal with the aftermath of a groom-less wedding ceremony.

Bless Liam.  First, in the midst of the chaos Harry hadn’t even considered that world was still turning outside of their own little dramatic bubble.  And second… well, at some point he really did want to get back into the bakery business, which meant that it would probably not be the best idea to burn bridges with the vendors to whom he’d called in a lot of favors in order to pull off the now cancelled event on such short notice.

Niall was the one to point out that they didn’t technically have to let it go to waste.  Sure, there would be no actual ceremony, but that was just something that everyone tolerated in order to get to the food and fellowship and dancing anyway.  Louis was unlikely to want everyone back in the room anytime soon, so Harry insisted that they all go with Liam and just have the whole party without them.  Niall – who had the idea in the first place – obviously agreed, and Liam was already going anyway.  And with a little convincing (and a few tears), Anne agreed that she – and a reluctant Gemma – should be the ones to handle the Styles side of the family that showed up.

With everyone settled on a course of action – and after two very large servings of caffeine –Harry reentered the room only to find Lottie arguing with a nurse as Louis, close to tears again, fidgeted and tugged at the monitors against his skin. 

Louis was exhausted, but also too restless to remain lying down.  After a few additional angry words from Harry, the hospital staff agreed to remove most of the equipment that had been keeping him tethered to the bed.  With Harry back, and as she’d discussed with Louis while he was gone, Lottie left to take up her station in the waiting room – with, of course, the promise that she’d be back in a heartbeat whenever he wanted.

Together, Harry and Louis walked up and down the hallway, pausing every few minutes for Louis to hang onto Harry as his whole body shook from the intensity of the pain coursing through it.  When the long halls of the hospital became too much for him, they took to simply pacing around their small hospital suite.  At one point, Louis dropped to his knees, unable to support himself any longer.  He refused to move from his spot on the floor, and Harry took it upon himself to gather all the pillows and blankets in the room to create a nest around him.  They got a few curious looks from passersby in the hall, but both were beyond caring.

The cycles of his contractions became shorter and shorter, and soon they were lasting longer than the time between them.  Louis barely had enough time to regain his breath and then another would start, the intensity catching him off guard each time because each time he had been sure that nothing could be more painful than the last one. 

And each time he was wrong. 

The intensity of it all actually made Louis sick a couple times.  At this point, he was curled up on his side with his eyes squeezed shut and silent tears rolling down his cheeks.  Harry felt so helpless.  He wanted to cuddle him or hold his hand or run his fingers through his hair, but every time he touched Louis, his hand was slapped away.  The action was almost always followed by a mumbled and half-delirious apology, and the nurses explained that this was common during transition, which signaled the final sprint before the birth.

The minutes ticked by, at the same time unbearably slow and far too quick.  He was gonna die.  At the start of every new contraction, Louis was convinced that there was no way his body or his mind could endure another 60-90 seconds of the merciless torture without simply giving out.  Then it would end and he’d have just enough time to remind himself that he was doing this for a good reason, that he needed to be strong.  And then another contraction would grip him and again it was like both imploding and exploding at the same time, with equal and opposing forces locked in a standstill on the battleground that was his body.  There was nothing he could do.  There was nothing Harry could do.  He was simply stuck there, paralyzed as he rode out wave after wave of agony.

Then something changed.  Something shifted deep within his core and all of Louis’ thoughts shifted to a single point of focus:  he needed to push.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked, startled when Louis began thrashing and scrambling around in his mass of fabrics.  He was reaching out and grasping at nothing until Harry stuck his hand out; Louis latched on and pulled himself up onto his knees facing Harry.  “Louis, what’s wrong?” he whispered as Louis threw his arms around his neck.

“Gotta- nnngh!  Gotta push.”  Louis pulled all his weight down on Harry as he bore down.

“Whoa, wait, what?  You’re pushing?”  Louis grunted, but Harry wasn’t sure if it was in affirmation or just a result of his efforts.  “Lou, wait, we gotta get a doctor.”

Harry started to pull away and Louis growled, “Don’t you fucking move, Styles,” as he pushed for the remainder of the contraction, letting out a small cry at its peak.  “Harry,” he whimpered, slumping against his husband when the pain had finally dulled to more of a burning ache but the crushing heaviness in his pelvis remained.

“I know, baby.  She’s almost here.  Let me go call for the doctor.”  Louis nodded weakly and Harry kissed the top of his head before pulling out of his grasp and dashing to the bed to press the big red call button.  It had taken mere moments, but Louis had already started moaning as another contraction began.  Harry knelt in front of him and Louis immediately resumed his previous position and began pushing again.

“Whoawhoawhoa!” a nurse exclaimed upon entering the room.  She got on her knees beside them and when she saw that Louis was already pushing, she put a hand on his shoulder.  “Just breathe for me, sweetheart.  I need to make sure you’re ready to deliver before you start pushing.”

Louis looked like he had no intention of listening to the interloper, and so Harry took up the reins.  “Louis, baby, you have to stop pushing.”

“Can’t,” Louis whined upon releasing the breath he’d been holding.

“Just for a minute.  Breathe with me.”  Louis did his best to huff along with Harry, but soon the buildup of pressure without the release of being able to push was too much to bear and Louis cried out, clawing at Harry’s back as if he could somehow escape out of his own body.  “Almost over, love.  Just a little more.”

The nurse waited until Louis’ body relaxed, then reached her hand between his legs.  Louis cringed and burrowed into Harry’s neck; he hated it when unfamiliar hands were touching him, especially there and especially when he was in so much pain.  It was too vulnerable.

“Good news!  You’re at 10 centimeters; all clear to push again with the next contraction.”  Louis had to bite his tongue against uttering a snarky ‘no shit’ before she went to go retrieve the doctor.  Harry helped Louis drive through two more contractions before he sensed another presence come up behind him.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” a familiar voice said as she knelt down so that she was at eye level with her patient.  “I see you took my advice, albeit a little too seriously.  Not coming to the hospital until you were already in active labor.”  She tsk-ed and Louis actually chuckled, giving the woman a small smile.  Harry was unfamiliar with the doctor, but she and Louis seemed to have a history.

“It’s Tomlinson-Styles now, actually,” Louis corrected.  “But I think you can probably call me Louis at this point.  And you know me – always one for the theatrics.”  Louis winced and curled up against Harry, who kneaded his fingers into his lower back while his husband worked.  “Ooooh.  Fuckfuckfuck.  This fuckin’ hurts.”  He cursed some more until even that required more breath and concentration than he could spare.  “You are so carrying the next one,” Louis threatened as the pain finally dissipated.

“Next one?”  Harry pulled back and smirked down at Louis, who at first looked surprised at his own words, then narrowed his eyes as if in challenge, but Harry conceded.  “Of course, love.  Anything you want.”  He placed a trail of light kisses along Louis’ forehead and down to his temple and whispered, “I’d love to have _lots_ of babies with you.”  Louis mumbled something that might have been _why the fuck would anyone voluntarily put themselves through this_ , but Harry rather liked the idea of experiencing this process for himself.  There was pain, yes, but there was purpose to it.  And he could find the beauty in that.

The nurses that had come in to prepare for the delivery tried to get Louis back on the bed, which resulted in him throwing an absolute tantrum; when that failed, a particularly militant nurse insisted that he at least be hooked up to some monitoring equipment.  At that point, Louis was too tired to physically resist anything, but outright wept at the idea, not even able to compose himself enough to hold his breath and push during the next contraction.

“Oh just let the boy be, Lauren – you’re stressing them out.”  The pushy nurse pouted a bit at Dr. Reid’s rebuke, and she squeezed her shoulder with reassurance.  “I know it’s against protocol, but he feels comfortable there and we should let him deliver this baby the way he wants to.”  Harry smiled; he could see why Louis liked this woman.  “It’ll only be a few more minutes anyway.”

As it turned out, ‘a few more minutes’ was more like 30 minutes.  The most agonizingly slow minutes of either of their lives to date.  Louis’ whole body was trembling and aching and he was almost ready to give up.  Well, to give up again – he’d already given up at least four times already, and each time Harry’s strong arms would hold him steady and his deep voice would offer him words of strength and praise, and each time his mind would find the will to accomplish what his body was already doing anyway.

At the start of the next contraction, Louis inhaled deeply in preparation for another round of pushing when he suddenly released his breath in alarm.  “No!  Nononono,” he muttered, shifting the balance of his weight from one knee to the other as he attempted to hold back from the overwhelming instinct to bear down.  “Fuck.”

“What is it, love?” Harry asked as Louis cried into his shoulder.

“B-burns.  Can’t—agh!  Hurts too much.  Can’t.”  Any other actual words were lost, dissolving into a series of strangled whines.

Harry looked worriedly to Dr. Reid, who was smiling proudly.  “That’s her head trying to come through, Louis.  I bet you’ll be able to see her on the next contraction.”

Harry’s eyes were wide and his heart started to beat a mile a minute.  “You hear that?  She’s almost here, baby.”

Looking into Harry’s face – the hard and determined set to his jaw, the soft lines around eyes that looked as tired as he felt but were already filling up with tears of happiness – Louis knew.  At that moment it was the only thing he knew.  “I want you to deliver her.”

“What?”  Harry’s eyes popped open shock and he nearly lost his hold on his husband, but Louis didn’t have time to answer before he pitched forward against his husband’s chest.  It was something Harry had brought up weeks earlier during his intensive research into childbirth methodologies; he had been half-joking, but Louis was not opposed to the idea.  If someone had to be handling him down there, he preferred it to be by someone he knew.  He hadn’t brought it up again, though, and Harry had just assumed that it had been a fleeting thought.

As Louis screamed and pushed through another contraction, the doctor announced that yes, a head of dark hair could be seen peeking through, though it retreated back inside when he released his efforts.  At the next brief intermission, Louis hastily tried to explain his thoughts through panting breaths.  “Please, Haz.  This morning you said you started loving her the moment you met me.  I want that to be the first thing she feels.”  Louis wriggled out of Harry’s grasp so that he could grab his hands, bringing one up to place a kiss on his palm.  “I want- I want your hands to be the first ones to hold her.” 

“I can guide you through the delivery, if that’s what you both want,” Dr. Reid stated calmly, and again Harry was in awe of how flexible and accommodating the physician was.

“Is that what you want, love?”  Louis nodded without hesitation, and Harry’s heart rate spiked impossibly higher.  “Okay.  Okay, I can’t be in two places at once.  You want to bring Lottie in so she can take my place here?”  Another nod, and the pushy nurse from before took it upon herself to retrieve his sister from the waiting room.  Louis almost rolled his eyes, convinced that she just wanted to take back a modicum of control and authority; Harry, however, chose to believe that she was simply trying to make amends for her earlier behavior.

Lottie darted into the room right as another contraction began.  She knelt down and Louis immediately grabbed onto her, almost making her lose her balance.  She was thrown a bit unprepared into her role as labor coach, but it was enough for Louis just to be able to cry and scream into her shoulder while she held him and soothed him with whatever words of encouragement came to mind.

Harry had taken up a position on Louis’ opposite side, still using one hand to keep pressure on his lower back even as the doctor was explaining everything that was about to happen.

On the next push, something finally gave way inside him and Louis began keening in a high-pitched whine, his fingers digging into Lottie’s shoulder so hard that they would probably leave bruises.

“I- she’s coming, Lou.  She’s right here.”  Harry’s voice was already thick with emotion as he cupped his hand around his daughter’s emerging head as the doctor had instructed.  Before, he had felt her roll and kick against the walls of Louis’ stomach, but this… this was different.  He could actually touch her now, this child that just a few months earlier he had thought impossibly out of reach.

As Louis began straining, Dr. Reid said firmly, “Just pant for me, Louis.  Just until her head’s out.”

“I have to-“ he paused to gasp for air, then, “get her _out_.”

“She’ll come all on her own.  Let your body do the work for you,” she explained.

Louis wanted to bite back with some comment about what hell he’d been doing for the last 45 minutes or so then, but it came out as more of a strangled cry as the overwhelming pressure seemed to constrict every inch of his insides.

“Breathe, Louis,” Lottie reiterated when she saw that he was still holding his breath.  “With me.”  She demonstrated exhaling quick puffs of air until he finally joined in.  When his breathing returned to normal and he slumped against her, she placed a quick kiss to the top of his head.  “You’re doing so amazing, Lou; I’m so proud of you.”

As it turned out, as awful and exhausting as pushing had been, holding back from the urge when every instinct in your body insisted upon giving into it was even worse.  It was like trying to stay above water after being shipwrecked in the middle of a hurricane – like nature itself was against you.

It went on like this for two more torturous contractions, and Harry’s hands never left their supportive position.  His thumb was gently stroking back and forth across her little wet cap of hair, already giving his daughter her first cowlick, as she slowly emerged further into the world.  He was already so in love with just these few soft inches of her, but then he saw her nose, her mouth, her little chin, and then he could barely see at all, his vision was so blurred by tears.  He tried to blink them away rapidly, wanting to memorize every detail of her face, but there were endless others waiting behind.

“H-heads out,” Harry sniffled.

_No shit_ , Louis wanted to say, though thought better of having those be the first words his daughter’s newly freed ears would hear from him.

“Alright, Louis, I want you to push with the next contraction.  Harry, you can give her a little tug from your end as well; then once her shoulders are cleared… well, there’s a reason they call it ‘catching’ the baby.”

Harry would have panicked at that – what if he fucking _dropped_ her? – but he didn’t have time before Louis was bearing down once more.  He was afraid to pull too hard, but at the doctor’s urging (and Louis’ emphatic “get her the fuck _out of me_!”), and after ensuring that her neck was not bound by the umbilical cord, he added a little more force.

Louis was shaking so hard that he was sure Lottie was supporting all of his weight at this point.  With the very last of what little power and resolve he had left, and beyond what he thought possible, his body stretched around one shoulder, then the other.  In a white hot blast of burning pain, she was held captive right at the widest point for several infinite seconds; then, as promised, in one swift motion the rest of her slid effortlessly into Harry’s waiting arms.

Suddenly, Louis felt unbearably empty.  The rest of this whole process had taken so goddamn long that he was honestly surprised at how quickly the last few moments had gone by. 

And frankly, he wasn’t quite ready for it.

Louis already missed having his daughter inside him.  Where she was safe and protected.  Where he always knew where she was and what she was doing.  Where as long as he took care of himself well enough, she would be taken care of too.

But now she was here.  And she didn’t sound any more happy about it than he did.  He had forced her from her warm, comfy home and into this harsh new world.  He had done that to her, and now she was already wailing and upset.  He felt guilty already, and- how?  How was he going to do this?

He wasn’t ready.

He could sense the movements and sounds flurrying around him.  He knew other people were talking – to him, to each other, it didn’t matter; he couldn’t hear much over the blood pounding in his veins.  He was crying, though he didn’t quite know why yet, and still had his face buried in Lottie’s shoulder.  When she tried to pull away he clung even harder to her.

At first, Harry didn’t notice.  The mixture of shock and pride and overwhelming joy at delivering his daughter, then being so entranced by her waxy, squishy, red face, he didn’t realize that Louis wasn’t sharing in this moment with him.  He had looked up to see if Louis was wearing an expression that matched the awe and wonder that he was feeling, but he was in much the same position he had been for the last hour.  Lottie had no idea what to do, meeting his gaze helplessly.

“Lou?” Harry whispered softly, wedging himself over by Louis’ side.  The baby was still mewling in his arms, and Louis simply shook his head – an answer to a question that Harry hadn’t asked.  “Our daughter may have inherited my penchant for surprises, but I think she’s got your attitude.”  Louis turned his head slightly, and Harry took this as a good sign.  “I believe she’s quite offended that her papa hasn’t bothered to say a proper hello yet.”

Louis laughed, and just like that his self-constructed shackles of doubt were shattered.  His head hurt – well, everything hurt really – and he felt absolutely disgusting and he wasn’t saying or doing any of the right things, but Harry… well, Harry always knew exactly how to make him feel loved and comforted and supported.  He filled the broken places in him and made him feel like he could do absolutely anything.  Fuck, he really should’ve said something like that in his wedding vows.

Lottie gave Louis’ shoulders one final squeeze before letting go, and the first thing he noticed was Harry’s face.  He was the actual sun, radiating such warmth and light that he would swear the whole hemisphere could be illuminated by it.  God, it deserved to be memorialized in paintings and sculptures and displayed in museums all over the fucking _world_ , it was that beautiful.  Louis didn’t want to look away, but he couldn’t help that his eyes were drawn downward by the tiny movements and a muffled squall coming from his arms.

Time stood still as Harry slowly, carefully placed their daughter into Louis’ arms.  Then, his whole world shifted, as if it was her weight that was now anchoring him to the ground.  As soon as they made contact, her crying ceased and she settled, like she could sense the presence and familiarity of the person and place that had been all she’d known for the last nine months.  Louis felt equally relieved by the proximity, like his world was back in balance. 

Suddenly everything made sense.  For the longest time, Louis had believed that his childhood had irreparably broken something deep inside him – the something that guided people in how to give and receive trust and comfort and love.  He and Harry had worked tirelessly to get to the point where loving with his broken heart finally felt natural, but this… this was like being given a whole new heart.

It was unconditional.  Perfect.

They stayed that way for what could have been seconds or days, simply studying each other and getting accustomed to experiencing each other in this new way, through all five senses.  At some point, Harry had shuffled around and wrapped his long arms around both of them, embracing his two greatest treasures and again trying to forever brand into his memory the awed, almost serene way his husband was gazing at their daughter.  It was an expression he’d never seen on Louis’ face before, but he had the feeling he’d be seeing it quite a lot in the future.

“I love you.  You are everything to me,” Louis breathed, speaking both to Harry and their daughter.  Her response – which the doctors would say was a reflex, that newborns weren’t capable of consciously making their own facial expressions even if it was in reaction to hearing his voice for the first time – but Louis believed that her answering smile was entirely on purpose, and—

“Dimples!”  Louis’ thumb brushed up against the small dip in her cheek as his eyes flicked up to see the matching ones punctuating Harry’s impossibly wide grin.  “Dimples,” he muttered again, incredulous.  Their daughter had fucking _dimples_ , and… alright, maybe Louis started crying again.


	17. The Happy Ending

The nurses let the new little family have a good few minutes of bonding time before stepping in to get her cleaned and measured and tested.  Louis didn’t want to let her go so soon, but he could have had her in his arms for the next ten years and it still wouldn’t have been enough.  The doctor still had some work to do on Louis as well, so he insisted that Harry go with the nurses to keep an eye on their baby girl.  He was more than happy to oblige.

After Louis was as cleaned up and comfortable as he was going to get for the next few days, they helped him get settled into the bed that he’d resented and avoided ever since he’d arrived.  He was grateful for it now, though.  That same damn nurse from before had quite the smug look on her face when Louis moaned in pleasure as his body was finally allowed to rest, but he didn’t care.  He was in heaven on the too hard, too scratchy hospital bed.

He was advised to rest – with the constant feeding and changing and holding required of a newborn, he wouldn’t get another chance for quite some time – but gave up before long.  The incredibly uncomfortable ache in his backside didn’t help, but really it was that he was having trouble sleeping alone.  He knew it was silly, but it felt like a part of him was missing.  His daughter had been his constant companion for months, and falling asleep without her made him uneasy.

Having been dozing in and out of consciousness, Louis wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed by the time the door opened again.  It must have been at least long enough for a shift change, though, as he didn’t recognize the nurse that was quietly talking to Harry at the threshold.  He was sure it was important information – something about his health or medical care or, you know, how to take care of another human being – but Louis’ entire focus was on the small, clear cot rolling between them.

Louis immediately made grabby hands for his daughter, and after getting over the initial surprise that he was awake, Harry grinned and reached into the mobile basket to pass their daughter back to her papa.  When the nurse left, Harry perched on the side of the bed, simply watching Louis watch her.

“How did it go?” Louis asked, pulling down her little white cap so that it covered her ears.

“She’s perfect, Lou; 6 pounds, 11 ounces, and 19 inches long.”  As Harry stared at them, he shook his head in amazement.  Just a few hours earlier, she had been _inside_ of him, and now here she was.  “You were so incredible, love.”  Honestly, he couldn’t wait to do it himself (although he would wait at least until they were out of the hospital to bring up that particular topic).

At this, Louis glanced up and gave him a small smile.  “Didn’t really have much of a choice, now did I?”  He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, and so was surprised when Harry answered.

“You did, though.”  Louis looked up at him questioningly, but Harry’s glassy eyes were fixed on their little girl.  “You had a choice.  You had to make a lot of decisions over the last few months.  Alone.  And I can’t- god, I can’t even imagine how hard that was for you.”

“Haz,” Louis began, but Harry shook his head.

“I know.”  They had discussed this many times, and though Louis didn’t blame him for his absence during most of his pregnancy, Harry still blamed himself.  “But through it all, still every choice you made was for her.  To make sure she would have the best life she could.”  He brushed his thumb across the redness blooming on Louis’ cheekbones at the praise.  “Thank you.  For everything from spilling coffee on me to making me a husband and a father.”  He swiped at a tear in the corner of his eye and added his hand under Louis’ where it supported her head.  “Thank you for being strong enough to love us both.”

Louis tugged on his outstretched arm, urging him to lay back in the bed with him.  He scooted over to give Harry some room, only to immediately burrow back into his side.  “You know, you were pretty incredible yourself today.”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice, did I?”  Louis nudged him in the ribs with his elbow, but Harry only pulled him closer.  “Never had much of a choice when it came to you, really,” he sighed.  They laid there in contented silence for a while, with Louis periodically adjusting the blanket in his arms or kissing her cheek or wrapping his finger around her tiny hand.  “She’s never going to get any sleep if you keep messing with her,” Harry teased.

“I can’t help it – she’s just so cute,” Louis whined.  The vibrations in Harry’s chest resulting from his deep laugh caused her to stir even more, and Louis knew he was right.  “Fine.  But we should at least let everyone know that she’s here, yeah?”

Harry hadn’t even thought about the wedding reception that was probably still going on at that very minute.  He shuddered to think what his sister would do to him if he waited too long to make the announcement – he’d already be in enough trouble as it was that Lottie got to be there in the room when she wasn’t even in the building.

“First family photo,” Harry preened, whipping out his phone and flicking open the camera.

The three of them huddled together and tried out various poses and angles.  In the end, they couldn’t pick just one.  They sent out a close-up of her angelic face – having to wait a solid 20 minutes to get the perfect shot of her dimples – along with her birth stats.  They also got one of her yawning and several shots of her tiny fists and feet.  The final picture included her daddies; their daughter was still on full display in Louis’ arms, and he had his eyes squeezed shut with a huge smile on his face while Harry pulled him in close as he planted a kiss on his cheek.

Amidst the congratulations and well-wishes (and more exclamation points and emojis than any one text chain should ever contain), they were also flooded with what basically amounted to a photographic recreation of the entire reception.  They got to see all the flowers and food and every guest that was there, but their favorites were the ones that recreated classic wedding poses, using stand-ins for the guests of honor that could not perform them.  Gemma smashing cake into Liam’s face.  Niall catching the bouquet.  Anne and Gemma sharing a romantic first dance.  There were dozens of them, each more ridiculous than the last, and Louis was certain that these were better than any traditional wedding photos they could have taken.

Harry could detect the wistfulness in Louis’ eyes as he looked through the pictures of their reception – he was a bit sad at having missed the whole thing – and insisted at that point that they should all try and get some rest.  Louis protested lightly, but was asleep almost as soon as the baby was taken from his arms.  Harry snapped another quick set of pics of Louis and their daughter fast asleep and sent them out with the caption _Time for some much needed rest – they both had a hard day_.

Although Harry himself felt as though he could comfortably sleep for the next 12 hours or so, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to surprise his husband one more time.  With a parting kiss to both of his loves, he stepped out into the hallway to make the first call.

When Louis awoke, the first thing he noticed was the smell.  He had gotten used to the clean antiseptic scent of the hospital, but now it was different.  Sweeter.  At first, he thought he was still in a dream, and opening his eyes didn’t do much to dispel that theory.

The overhead lights were off, but the walls and floor were lined with twinkle lights.  Colorful paper lanterns were strung across the ceiling and almost every inch of surface space was covered with white flowers.  Another table had been brought into the far corner, and he could just make out several shiny silver trays that held a hodgepodge of appetizers as well as the entire untouched top tier of their wedding cake that Harry had designed.

He wasn’t sure what gave away that he was awake – he was starting to think that maybe Harry just had a sixth sense about it at this point – but as soon as he had pushed himself to an upright position, the door opened to reveal Harry fully decked out in his wedding tuxedo and holding a single yellow rose.

Louis was speechless as he glided into the room – that damn self-satisfied smirk firmly planted on his face – and sat down next to Louis on the bed.  Anne, Gemma, Lottie, Liam, and Niall trailed in behind him, all looking beautiful and sparkly in their formalwear.

“What –“

“I know you were disappointed that we didn’t quite make it to the reception.  So, I thought we could bring the reception here to you?”  Harry said it like a question, not quite sure how Louis would receive this kind of surprise after all that had happened.

Like many things that had transpired over the course of their relationship, Louis’ wedding reception did not end up the way he’d expected.  But also like the rest of those unexpected things, it ended up being even better.  “It’s beautiful.  I- thank you.”

Harry leaned in to brush his lips softly against Louis’ mouth, which was still parted in surprise.  “Anything for you, love.”  He tilted his head to rest their foreheads together.  “Anything.”

“Save it for the honeymoon; where’s my gorgeous niece?”  Gemma didn’t wait for them to respond before she whisked over to the bedside cot and reached her arms in.

“Gems,” Harry warned when he noticed Louis tense up, causing her to pause mid-scoop.  He tilted Louis’ chin up to look him in the eyes.  “Is it alright if Gemma holds her, love?”

“No, it’s… well—“  Louis wanted to roll his eyes at himself; of course it was fine.  She was probably more adept at it than he was.  It was just… well, no one else had held her before, and he was still adjusting to having her outside of him – open and exposed to the whole rest of the world.  It made him a little nervous.

“How about if you have a little cuddle first, and then we can pass her around whenever you’re ready,” Anne suggested.  She understood the anxiety he was feeling – smiling when he breathed out a sigh of relief – and shot her headstrong daughter a look that just dared her to try and contradict her.

Before Gemma thought better of her self control, Harry transferred their little one into Louis’ arms.  “There you go, love; back where you belong.”

Everyone crowded around the small hospital bed, leaning in to get a good look at the newest addition to their family.  And for once, Louis didn’t mind that all eyes were pointed in his direction; they had good reason to be.

“What are we calling her, then?” Niall piped up from the end of the bed.  The serene expression on Louis’ face vanished and was replaced with one of sheer panic.  “What?”

“Fu-“ he cut himself off before he could finish his usual exclamatory expletive.  “I- we haven’t got a name.  Harry, we don’t have a name!”  In an effort to avoid deciding, Louis had determined that he would just wait until she was born to find a name that fit her.  But now she was here and he still hadn’t thought of one.

This, of course, had occurred to Harry, but he wasn’t too concerned about it.  He knew couples that were home from the hospital for a week before they settled on a name.  “Shh, it’s alright, love,” he soothed with a chuckle.  “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Louis wanted to call bullshit on that new age mumbo jumbo, but allowed it to mollify him only because it bought him a little more time before he had to somehow bestow a permanent moniker on someone who had existed in the world for all of a few hours.  He studied her face more intently now, as if willing her to telepathically tell him what she wanted to be called, but gave up shortly after.  Her little newborn brain wouldn’t know any names anyway.

It only took a few minutes before Gemma was practically bouncing in place and Louis finally conceded.  Much as he would like, it’s not like he could hold her in his arms forever.  But then she fussed when she was handed over, and it was almost enough for Louis to snatch her back and test that theory.

Baby Girl Tomlinson-Styles got passed around to each of her adoring fans while stories were being exchanged.  Harry spared them the more gory details about the birth, but proudly described his own part he’d played in her first few hours of life, from the moment she landed in his arms and cutting the umbilical cord to helping with her first bath and learning how to fold the perfect swaddle.  Niall regaled them with stories from the party – no doubt hyperbolized, as they involved accents from countries that Louis was pretty sure no one had even been to, but still highly entertaining.  Louis’ favorite was one about their boss, who had gotten massively drunk and made a pass at Anne.  Gemma urged her to at least give it a go – he was rich and had a head full of hair and was enough of a gentleman to accept her gentle rejection with grace and even humor.  (She didn’t mention to her daughter that she’d gone back later and gotten his number.)

At some point – probably after Louis had whined about how everyone else looked all nice and fancy while he was still wearing an open-backed gown with some questionable stains on it – Harry had taken off his suit jacket and placed it over his shoulders.  Which was why when Louis’ daughter finally returned to his arms, her nose was mere inches from the yellow rose pinned to the lapel and it caused her to ruffle up her nose and sneeze.

Everyone appropriately aww’d – all baby sneezes were adorable, and no one had heard hers before – and Louis removed it from her immediate vicinity.  As he twirled the delicate flower between his fingers, he thought back to everything it had come to mean to him over the years.  Essentially, yellow roses had played a role in every major part of his and Harry’s relationship.  They were present during dates and milestones and occasions, and meant everything from I’m sorry to I miss you to I love you.  It was why they’d chosen them for the wedding, and why it was stitched into the fabric of the outfit they’d chosen for their daughter’s homecoming, and—

“Oh!  Oh my god!”  Louis would have slapped a hand to his forehead at his own obliviousness were they both not currently occupied.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing as he looked worriedly between Louis and the bundle in his arms.

Louis bit his lip, suddenly unsure of the validity of his epiphany in his still hormonally-charged state.  He shouldn’t have gotten so excited; this was still Harry’s decision too.  “Nothing.  Sorry, no, nothing.  But, um…”  He looked around the room and didn’t want Harry to feel pressured into agreeing to anything, and they really hadn’t discussed names at all.  “Come here for a second.  Closer,” he clarified when Harry gave him a questioning look – he was already sitting right beside him, after all.

Everyone watched, confused, as Louis whispered quietly to Harry for several minutes.  They thought they would get some answers when Louis pulled back, a worried expression on his face; but then Harry leaned in and picked the conversation back up again.  When they finally pulled apart, they were both beaming and Harry remained glued to Louis’ side.

“What the hell was that all about?” Gemma finally broke the silence with the question that was on all their minds.

“Well,” Harry began, clearly enjoying dragging out the suspense, “It appears that, like the responsible parents we are, we have finally decided on a name for our daughter.”  He paused, giving Louis the opportunity to do the honors, as the room waited in tense anticipatory silence.

Louis took a deep breath, mentally preparing for making his first major decision as a parent.  He held her up, quietly asking her if she liked her name one more time before announcing it to the world and making it official.  She didn’t explicitly agree, but she didn’t immediately start crying either, and her hand stretched in a way that almost made it look like she was giving a thumbs up, so he took that as consent.  “Welcome to the world, Rose Marie Tomlinson-Styles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Truly, thank you to everyone who gave their time and attention to my words, and especially to those who left kudos and comments - they are the most rewarding part, and I have enjoyed every single one!
> 
> This felt like the natural end-point to this portion of their story, but I've got ideas rolling around for two more parts (as their family continues to grow and adapt and change), if that's even something anyone else would be interested in. Love you all, and thank you again!
> 
> xx


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